


Corruption, Purity and Desire

by Ragelikeafire



Series: Corruption Purity and Desire [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragelikeafire/pseuds/Ragelikeafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Andy was transferring her thoughts into her Dictaphone, whilst walking through the busy newsroom. She had filled her seventh cup of coffee for the day and was topping up her sugar levels with a much-needed frosted doughnut.

“Less than a week ago on Christmas Eve, five of New York’s finest were massacred in a crack den in the Bronx. Five o'clock this morning Lucian Hernando, the renowned gang Lord was shot at point blank range in his bathroom. A witness has said that she saw two men, whom she has been unable to identify, get out of a blue, possibly purple 1980’s grand-prix and go into the building, where the victim was later found dead. An EMT on the scene said off the record that the victim’s larynx was crushed and that he had been shot four times. District Attorney Sharpe has…”

Andy paused, mid-flow as she was interrupted by a shout from across the room. “Hey Andy. There’s a call for you on line one.”

“Ok, thanks Cynthia” Andy called out before stuffing the rest of her doughnut into her mouth, and sitting back down in her creaky leather chair.

“Sachs, here.” Andy announced. The voice on the line was desperate. The man had a strong New York accent with an Irish lilt and she found herself struggling to understand him. “Hey, slow down.” She responded softly into the receiver. “Ok, where?” She questioned, before listening to the man’s response. “Alright, but you’re gonna have to give me something, something small.” Andy let out a deep sigh after the man hung up the phone and she frantically scribbled down the instructions she had been given.

  
                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                                                       

The rain was cruel and unrelenting on the windscreen. Andrea Sachs waited in the dark desolate car park, chuckling lightly from the realisation that she had subconsciously parked perfectly in the space lines even though she was the only one in there.

She heard the car before it came into view, the low growl of the large engine, pulled beside her at a vertical angle. The man got into the back seat of her car. Andy looked at him through the rear view mirror never turning around.

 “Are you alone?” He asked. His eyes searched out of the rain soaked windows nervously.

 “Yeah.” She answered.

 “Don’t fuck with me girlie, I swear to god don’t fuck with me…” The man bared his teeth and Andy could smell the alcohol on his breath.

 “I’m not, I swear! No-one knows I’m here.”

“Are you recording this?”

 “Yes, is that ok?” The man took a deep breath and nodded at Andy. “Look.” She said softly, as she tried to calm the extremely agitated man. "This is how it goes, you just talk. You say anything you wanna say and I’ll listen, I'm not here to judge you.” 

 “All so you can get my story. Right?” His voice rippled with desperation. Andy gripped the door handle, nervously unsure what the man would do. “You’re all the same. You’ll just fuck me over and turn my name to shit. That’s it?”

 “Hey! I’m not your priest, I’m a writer, and I’m here to tell the truth. You called me, remember? I came down here to freeze my ass off sitting in this fucking car, so I did my part.”

The man started to sob pitifully. “I’ve gotta get this out of me, I’ve got to get this out!” He muttered.

Andy stared at the man in the mirror and waited for him to continue.

“We’re all dirty, every last one of us. We sold our souls to the highest bidders. Murder for hire. We stole drugs, planted shit, robbed and beat our suspects.” He paused for what—to Andy—felt like hours; sobbing into his hands. “We condemned five of our own to die, we knew what they were walking into, and we let it happen anyway.”

“Who, who did this?” Andy made eye contact with the man in the mirror. She was scared out of her mind, but she somehow managed to keep her calm poker face.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU, NO NAMES!” He spat angrily.

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you are all cops, right?” The man nodded in response.

“I can’t undo it now, there’s no atonement, I’m gonna burn for this. We’re all gonna fucking burn!”

 “No.” She pleaded. “Let me help you? I’ll call the desk and speak with my Editor. I’ll get them to save space for the story; your story.”

The man shook his head. “No, no.” He said.

“We’ll bring you in, we can keep you safe. We’ll take care of you, I promise. Ok?” Andy reached for her phone from her purse on the front seat.

The man stared off into space as the words continued to spill from his mouth. “Becoming a Cop and the respect that earned us.” He murmured in broken lines. “To be able to hold something honest. The pledge we took. Being in the blue and wearing the shield. Do you know how that felt? We’ve let it fall out from under us.”

Andy looked down to the phone in her hands and speed dialled the press office, lifting the phone to her ear to wait for the line to connect. “I was a good man once…” She heard him whisper.

There suddenly was an almighty crack that felt like her ears had been torn apart, then everything around her turned silent. This was quickly followed by a high-pitched sound in her inner ear, which made her head pulse in response. It took a couple of seconds for Andy realise what had happened. It wasn’t until she smelt the rich metallic scent in the air and felt the warm liquid against the side of her face that she realised what it was. 

She forced herself to look in the rear view mirror. Just one glance. A sea of red flashed before her eyes, the young journalist opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out, the bile rose in her throat as she fumbled with the door handle desperately trying to get out of the car.

Outside the car, Andy leaned against the door in an effort to stop her knees from buckling beneath her. Her body doubled over as her vomit spilled out on to the concrete, burning her throat on its journey. When she closed her eyes, the image was still there ‘ _oh god the blood, so much blood.’_ She thought.

She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. _‘Come on Andy, pull yourself together, think!’_  Then she remembered her phone, she had dialled the office! She turned and reached into the car finding it on the passenger seat. It was still connected; she pressed the cell to her ear and heard the cheesy tune on the line. ‘ _I’m in a call queue! What the fuck?’_ ’ She thought. Andy ended the call and fumbled clumsily with the keypad searching for her Editor’s cell number in her address book.

The rain lashed down around her, she pressed the phone to her ear, straining to hear the ringing on the line. As she heard the line connect and she screamed in to the receiver. “EDDIE? I NEED YOUR HELP. FUCK! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

 “Sachs? Where the hell are you?” Andy felt a wave of relief as she heard Eddie’s voice. “What the fuck’s happened?” He drawled.

“He shot himself Eddie! He blew his fucking brains out in the back seat of your car!” Andy’s voice quivered uncontrollably as she fought the tears. “After what he just told me Eddie I don’t think I can call 911, Jesus Eddie, I’m scared!”

 “Christ, Sachs. What the hell did you do?” Eddie shouted and Andy strained to hear him over the sound of the rain. “I told you never to go out alone! Where are…”

The cell phone fell from Andy’s hand as an unbelievable force lifted her off her feet, without warning and threw her to the ground.

Eddie heard the crack on the line. A veteran journalist of thirty-five years, he knew exactly what had caused the sound. Gunshot. “SACHS” He bellowed into the phone as the entire pressroom turned to look at his office. “ANDY? Goddamn it Andy, answer me!” Eddie heard the muffled sound of the rain falling then the line disconnected.

 _‘Get up, get up, get up.’_ Andy chanted to herself, forcing her body into the sitting position, with her back against the car. She had seen people being shot hundreds of times on the television, she had been to dozens of crime scenes, but never had she imagined that she would have to experience it first hand. She had been shot. The pain was almost unbearable, and she knew that it was only the pure adrenalin pumping through her leaking veins that was driving on her. She listened for any approaching footsteps, but everything was drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain and low rumbling thunder. She knew that the shot had originated from somewhere behind the car, hitting her in the chest, in the left shoulder just a couple of inches above her breast.

She considered her options; she knew Vincent’s gun would still be in the backseat of the car. The dreams and fears of her soul were engaged in all out battle in her mind.

 _‘Get the gun, you need to protect yourself…No, you should hide…No you should run…”_ She argued with herself. _“You stupid girl, no-one is coming, you are going to die here.’ The_ thought of dying, the thought of leaving this world with so much yet to be done, so much left to be said and so much love to give. This very thought got her off the ground and she ran with all of her might.

Shots rang out from behind her as she reached the edge of the car park, concrete shards splintered and sprayed off the building wall as she rounded the corner. Seeing the lights ahead of her, the beautiful stained glass windows fifty yards ahead... she prayed.

                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **  
**

The Runway Magazine, New Year ball was the hottest ticket in town, with the event less than twenty-four hours away and London Fashion week starting in two weeks, Miranda’s schedule was insane.

She had allowed herself two days out of the office over the holidays. A whole day on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, of uninterrupted time with the twins. The teens adored her full attention and relished every second they could spend with her. She could have taken more time, she knew that she had some bridges to mend with her children and their home life, but that would mean letting standards slip at the Magazine. That to Miranda Priestly was simply unacceptable, so she just kept telling herself that she would make it up to them.

Miranda was working late, reviewing the stills from the latest Lacroix shoot, which would be used in the next edition, a task that she equally loved and loathed in her editorial duties. She was scanning through the images and brutally attacking them with a pad of vibrant _post-it notes_ and a red pen when the infamous _Book_ arrived on her desk after the days changes had formatted. The Runway _Book,_ which was renowned throughout the fashion industry, held the secrets of the next highly sought edition. After the day’s additions, the _Book_ would then be delivered to the Editor each evening for review, and returned to the relevant department heads, with fresh scathing remarks each morning.

With her Daughters at their Father’s for the remainder of the holiday, there was nothing to go home to but an empty house. So, Miranda had dismissed Carrie, her current mentally-challenged second assistant, for the evening and continued to work in blissful, uninterrupted silence in her office.

Several hours later, the elevator doors pinged open on to the Elias Clark Corporation lobby and the fashion Queen exited alone. Her heels clacked on the marble floor, as she glided towards the revolving doors with her trademark majestical grace. The lobby was empty apart from the two security guards, whose attention was completely focussed on the huge plasma screen mounted on the wall behind the reception desk.

The Editor glanced at the screen intrigued at what was holding their attention. The sound on the television was muted, but there was a breaking news alert scrolling across the screen.

Even at a glance, the words on the screen caught Miranda’s attention and she stop dead in her tracks.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was regretful day in Paris, which had occurred over two and half years ago, the day _she_ had left her. Andrea hadn’t just left _Runway,_ and her well-deserved position as first assistant. She had left Miranda too.

The months following Andrea’s sudden departure, the Editor had been desperately unhappy. She had thrown herself into work, some would say, even more ruthlessly than normal. Of course, at the time everyone had assumed it was the impending divorce to her third husband and Miranda did not bother to correct them. She truly believed that her thoughts and feelings for Andrea were completely unrequited. She was iron clad professional with her employees at all times and she would _never_ have crossed that line. But, even now, after all this time, she had trouble actually admitting her feelings to herself never mind anyone else.

The conversation had played out many times in her head.

_‘Am I deluded? She was just a girl who had shown promise, someone worthy of mentorship. For gods-sake I am twice her age! She could never love me. So why do I feel so strongly about her? More than any husband, lover or potential partners in my lifetime. Why? Because, she knew what I was thinking often before I did? Because, she knew how to give me what I needed and not just what I wanted? She challenged me. She made me feel alive. Her smile, oh her smile…’_

She had lost count of the amount of times that she’d had the same conversation with herself.

After Paris Miranda had been furious, humiliated and heartbroken. She had planned to destroy the young woman, blackball her with every publication and newsroom in the city, the state, the country! However, when the request for a reference request from the _New York Post_ had landed on her desk she just could not bring herself to follow through on her vengeful promises. Miranda subscribed to the _New York Post_ that same week.

They had crossed paths fleetingly in the last two years, but there was never a word spoken. Miranda had seen Andrea several times walking past Elias Clark. More recently, they had both attended a charity ball at the Plaza, for one of the many Children’s causes that the Elias Clark Corporation sponsored. On each occasion, they had made tense eye contact. Miranda had locked with Andrea’s beautiful deep brown eyes, daring her to break the stare. Miranda prayed that with that stare the younger woman would read her soul. She longed for her to make the first step but she never failed to disappoint.   
                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda took in the scrolling bar on the screen of the television and gasped aloud.

_> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>Breaking News: Off duty Police Officer and New York Post Journalist Andy Sachs fatally injured in Bronx shooting.<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<_

 “Turn the sound on!” Miranda called out from across the lobby. Both security guards spun round instantly and froze on the spot.

“I’m so sorry Ms. Priestly; we did not see you stood…”

“Quiet, I do not wish to enter into a conversation with you! Do as I say, turn on the sound!”  She ordered.

“Yes Ms. Priestly, but…” The Security Guard knew that he was playing with fire as he opened his mouth but he could see the distress on her face and he felt the need to tell her what he knew. “They ain’t saying anything more than what’s on the screen, Ma’am.”

Miranda didn’t acknowledge the guard’s words; she simply scanned the headline one more time and then turned on her heel and exited the building.

Her driver, Roy was waiting patiently at the curb, watching intently for sight of his passenger. Seeing her appear, he hurried towards the building to meet her with a large black umbrella to protect her from the elements.

As soon as he closed the car door, Miranda put up the privacy screen and hit the speed dial on her BlackBerry.

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily Charlton was used to the calls at all random hours, she had trained herself to answer the phone within one ring regardless of her location; sleeping, showering. She had even mastered the art of holding her pee mid-stream to answer Miranda’s calls. This particular occasion was not the most convenient of times for Emily.

As the First Assistant to the Fashion Queen, Emily was taking full advantage of the fact, that Miranda had finally entrusted new girl, Carrie not to steal anything or burn her house down. She had been able to leave early for the first time two months. She was in fact, at this moment in time on her knees, in a hotel suite giving some of her finest work to Jacob Ellison, heir to the GQ Empire. Her phone, which was hooked discreetly over the stockings, vibrated aggressively against her thigh. _‘I love my job, I love my job, I love my job!’_ She reassured herself mentally, as she reached for the buzzing device.                            

Emily was approaching her fourth year with Miranda. They had recently discussed her promotion—again— on the condition that she found herself a suitable successor. The Priestly-graduate-programme would normally have handed her a diploma by now, allowing her to progress through the ranks at sky rocketing pace. But, after a certain person— whom Emily referred to as the _fat girl—_ had changed the game. Emily had been left to pick up the pieces after Paris. She had now re-earned her place as first assistant and got back on track.

She idolised Miranda. The Queen of the fashion world; she was her goddess. One to be loved and feared in equal amounts. There wasn’t anything she that wouldn’t do for this woman.

“Yes, Miranda” Emily answered the call brightly, whilst simultaneously giving Jacob a look that screamed ‘ _One word and I will bite it off!_ ’

Miranda began her list of demands without greeting her assistant. “Get me the details of the Editor of _The New York Post_ immediately or do not bother come into work tomorrow.” The call disconnected before Emily could respond, which was no different to the usual. At least this time she had given her the name of the paper where the Editor worked. It was more than she normally got, in the past Emily had often considered trying to develop her telepathic abilities to even out the odds where Miranda was concerned.

Her assistant did not disappoint Miranda. One Minute and twenty seconds later, Miranda got exactly what she needed.  
  
                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The cell phone rang out, finally diverting to voicemail after what seemed like an eternity. Miranda Priestly did not usually need to leave messages; she normally had people falling over themselves to take her call. But, at this moment she was not Miranda Priestly, she was just a desperate woman left at the mercy of voicemail. Miranda took a deep breath for composure, before leaving her message, requesting that Mr. Eddie Curran return her call immediately. The tone of her voice left no question of what would happen if he didn’t.

Patience was wearing thin as she dialled the office number, where she was greeted with a sickening Christmas melody. She rolled her eyes and entered the direct extension number, which Emily had magically obtained, into the keypad.

  
                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie Curran’s line had been ringing off the hook since his call with Andy had ended. He was exhausted and his body was craving nicotine. He had not seen this coming; he felt a pang of guilt rise in his stomach as he thought about his next move. Reaching into his top drawer, he pulled out a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker and poured a double shot into a tumbler. As the searing liquid hit his throat he felt short wave of relief, he was about to take a second hit when his long-suffering assistant stormed into his office.

“Put that down Chief, you’re gonna wanna take this.” She took the bottle from his hand and lifted the receiver from its cradle.

“Come on, cut me a break Glenda. Unless it’s the fucking DA, it can wait!”

“Not this boss.” She answered, offering him the receiver. “I’ve got Miranda Priestly on line three. She is demanding to speak with you.”

 “Fuck me, what does that crazy Brawd want?"

“She wants you Chief…” She smirked. “…and when the Dragon Lady says jump, the world says how high?” 

Curran pulled the bottle back from his assistant’s hand and poured another generous shot. He knocked back the liquor in one gulp and released the hold on line three. “Miranda, it’s been a long time! Are you well?” He grimaced.

“Enough of the pleasantries, Mr. Curran.” Miranda retorted. “Andrea Sachs.” She stated abruptly and paused again. A sudden blankness appeared in her brain, realising that she hadn’t actually thought about what she was going to say.

 “What do you want Miranda?” Curran closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. ‘Wh _o did this woman think she was?’_ He thought.

 “I…how…” Miranda answered, uncharacteristically fumbling over her words.

Curran sighed like an impatient child. “They took her to North General, on Madison. I spoke to the Doctor around thirty minutes ago. He said she was stable but not out of the woods yet.”

Curran’s words slowly began register and Miranda sat up rigidly on her car seat, lifting a hand she rubbed her furrowed brow. “What?” She breathed.

“Look, Miranda.” He sighed. “Can we save what ever spit roasting you are about to perform on me until the daylight hours, I’ve had a really fucking shitty day.” He paused and waited for the after-shock of his outburst.  

“B...but…” Miranda fumbled again over her words. “The news said that she had been fatally wounded?” Miranda questioned, trying to convince herself that she had heard the crass little man correctly.

“I know, fucking amateurs?” He laughed awkwardly and then cleared his throat. “It’s still touch-and-go; we are all praying she makes it through the night.” He looked up as his assistant, Glenda re-entered his office with a steaming hot cup of coffee and placed it on his desk. He nodded gratefully at her and put the whisky back in his drawer.

“What about her family? Her boyfriend? Is someone with her?” Miranda rambled, still trying to take it all in.

Curran’s tone softened as he sensed Miranda’s distress. “We can’t reach her parents; with the number she has on file. One of my copy girls, recalls Andy talking about a second honeymoon in Europe. But, she pretty much keeps herself to herself. I don’t have any other numbers listed for her. We’ve already given all this information to the police.”

Miranda was still processing the fact that the young woman was alive. A million thoughts were whirling around in her mind and she held on tight to the hope that, maybe it wasn’t too late. “Thank you Mr. Curran.” Spoke calmly and sincerely. “I appreciate your time. My assistant will be in touch.” With that, she released the call and lowered the privacy screen from the backseat of the town car. “Roy, North General Hospital. Emergency room. Now!” 

  
                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain was merciless and added unnecessary minutes on to what should have been a simple ten-minute journey. Roy had run through a red light, praying to God that they didn’t get pulled over. The tickets were not the issue, but the volatile atomic bomb in the back of his Mercedes was a different story.

As they pulled up outside the E.R, Miranda was out of the car before Roy had the chance to release his seat belt.

“Would you like me to wait Ms. Priestly?” Roy called as he jumped out the car. Miranda threw her hand in the air dismissively.

“Go home Roy.” She called over her shoulder, before entering the building.

  
                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda detested hospitals. It was the smell; the rotten stench of illness and death, which was poorly masked by industrial strength disinfectant.

It was not long after midnight and the Emergency Room was fairly busy for such a late hour. However, there was peaceful hush surrounding the waiting area. The harsh sound of stilettos reverberating on the linoleum floor broke the quiet as Miranda approached the reception area.

Every head in the room lifted in her direction, eyes staying trained to the spot as if they had been hypnotised by the vision before them. After all, it was not every day that mere mortals were graced with the presence of the Queen of Fashion. Her ensemble consisted of a figure hugging Donna Karan pencil skirt, a black and gold silk fitted shirt which clung perfectly to her torso and five-inch gold Manolos Blahniks all of which were still as immaculate as the moment she had put them on. The beautiful black fur wrap adorning her shoulders complimented her pure white skin and a custom-made scent simply aided the signalling of her arrival to the room like a philharmonic orchestra.

The medical staff behind the reception desk appeared to physically cower as she approached. Miranda scanned the group of people behind the counter and locked eyes with a plump middle-aged woman in white scrubs.

“Can I help you Ma’am?”

“Andrea Sachs.” Miranda clipped.

The nurse had dealt with many ill-mannered members of higher society in her time and simply took the command in her stride. She entered the name into the computer and winced slightly, as she took in the information presented to her.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, Ms. Sachs is not able to accept visitors tonight.” The Nurse advised, preparing herself for the inevitable battle.

Miranda pursed her lips and took a deep breath, preparing to strike. “Are you deaf or just stupid? I would like Andrea Sachs room number, please! Or, do I need to request to see your supervisor?” She fixed her glare with the nurse, who didn’t waver. ”Supervisor it is then, move it along. I don’t have all night."

“Can I take your name please Ma’am?”

Jotting down the name the nurse sighed and spoke to a tiny mouse-like Intern—who jittered as if she had recently knocked back four double espressos in a row—instructing her to page the Attending Doctor.

The nurse lifted a hand and directed her open palm to the waiting area, silently suggesting that Miranda take a seat.

“I do not suggest that you keep me waiting long.” Miranda forewarned, followed by a pursing of her lips as she turned to the seating area. 

  
                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several minutes later, Miranda watched through on the other side of the glass security doors, as a young doctor leisurely sauntered down the corridor in his dark blue scrubs. She heard the tattered sneakers squeak on the linoleum surface and felt the anger rising from pit of her stomach, disgusted at his obvious disregard for the situation at hand. He stopped briefly behind the reception desk, where she observed him talking with the steely woman with whom she had spoken to minutes earlier.

“Ms. Priestly?” He called over the desk, “I am Doctor Chowdry. Please could you follow me?” The nurse pressed a button and the glass security doors hissed open, allowing Miranda to follow him into a room along the corridor.  “I believe you have requested to see Andrea Sachs, Ms. Priestly?”

Miranda nodded. “Yes, I would like you to make that happen. I understand that the situation is volatile however; I have spoken with her employer; who informs me that you have been unable to contact her family. It is unacceptable for her to be alone.”

 “Ah, yes. Mr. Curran called to war... erm. I mean, notify me of your impending visit. I have to say Ms. Priestly, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect after my phone conversation with him.” He smiled nervously, but Miranda did not and so he continued. “You are correct, we have been unable to reach her next of kin, and I understand that you were her former employer, were you close?”

“She was my assistant.” Miranda stated and when she did not expand on the fact the doctor continued further.

“The hospital rules stipulate that, only family members are allowed to visit a patient on the trauma ward. However, considering that she is alone and the large contributions you regularly donate to our neo-natal unit, I’m willing to treat this as an exception.” Miranda nodded again in response. “We have a security detail from the police department, their internal affairs team have been assigned, to ensure her safety.

 “What do mean ensure her safety?” Miranda quizzed.

The Doctor studied Miranda’s puzzled face for a few seconds. “I apologise Ms. Priestly. I assumed that you would know how Ms. Sachs came to be here. Please come with me, I’ll take you to the room.”

“Wait, what happened Doctor?”

“All I can tell you at this stage Ms. Priestly is that she was shot. She has been through an extremely traumatic ordeal. I feel that I need to prepare you, before you see her. She lost consciousness before the EMT’s arrived on the scene. She was taken straight into surgery and we were able to retrieve the bullet, thankfully, it did not hit any major arteries. She has lost a massive amount of blood, so we had to give her several transfusions. There was a minor complication during the surgery with some fluid leakage, causing her lung to collapse; meaning we had to insert a chest tube and intubate her, so she is heavily sedated at the moment. Her body has taken quite a shock, believe me when I tell you that she was lucky, another inch down and that bullet would have hit her heart.”

The doctor reached out and placed his large hand over Miranda’s, cloaking the soft white skin beneath. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Processing the information, she looked into his eyes for the first time and saw genuine compassion before she gently pulled her hand away.

 “Can I see her now please?”    
                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _  
_Emerging from a maze of corridors, they arrived on the trauma ward. Miranda spotted the police guards immediately. There was one man at the end of the hall and another on a chair outside one of an unmarked room. The fashionista had attended hundreds, if not thousands of functions over the years, she could spot a bodyguard a mile off. These plain clothed brutes were no exception

As Miranda and the Doctor approached the unmarked room, the seated man stood and spoke with gusto. “Hey Doc, what do we got here?”

Watching the doctor’s face, Miranda spotted a slight cringe, before he responded. “Sergeant Reynolds, this is Miranda Priestly, she is here to visit our patient. I have cleared this with the Chief, its ok.”

“Well then.” The Sergeant smirked as he turned his attention to Miranda, “Ma’am, I’ve gotta frisk you before I can let you be here.”

Miranda scoffed. “You will not lay one Neanderthal paw on my person! I am willing to let you search my purse, but if one grubby digit comes near me you will be finding yourself on a career downturn.” She extended her arm, holding out the one of a kind Marc Jacobs bag to the officer, who curled his lips in amusement.

“Oh I love a feisty Woman Doc!” The officer shoulder bumped the Doctor and Miranda watched the young man cringe again, this time not so subtly.

She held her tongue, knowing this would go faster without retaliation or further witticism. He rummaged in the bag for a few seconds, manoeuvring around the hard ring-bound book, phone, keys and numerous cosmetics, before handing it back to her with bumptious retort. “All done here.” He smirked.  
The Doctor took Miranda gently by the elbow and led her into the private room. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimmed lights as he closed the door behind them. Her ears filled with a series of harmonious sounds, the beep of the heart monitor, closely followed by ping of the arterial line and the regulated push of the ventilator. Miranda could not stifle the gasp that escaped her lips as she caught sight of the room’s sole occupant. She moved closer to the edge of the bed, absorbing the image before her.

Miranda’s emotions were running away with themselves and she found herself questioning her sanity.

_What am I doing here? What could I possibly hope to achieve? We’ve not spoken her for over two years and let’s face it, that last liaison did not end well. Will she even want me here? Oh but, two years later and still thinking about her, dreaming about her. She touched my soul; I can’t carry on like this. I can’t lose her again, I won’t..._

Dr Chowdry cleared his throat snapping Miranda out her trail of thoughts. “I assume you will want to stay with her through the night?” Miranda nodded without hesitation. “Very well, the nightshift will check on her every fifteen minutes, I’ll ask Nurse May to bring you some blankets, so we can try to make you as comfortable as possible. She will help you with anything you need.”

Miranda didn’t acknowledge his farewell; she had already slipped back under spell of the cadenced machines and the scene before her. Andrea’s beautiful Alabaster skin was now a translucent grey. Her head was tilted back exposing her long neck but it was somewhat spoilt by the central line piercing the skin. A repugnant plastic tube pressed tightly between her full lips which aided the rise and fall of her chest. Miranda instinctively reached out and held a warm limp hand, moving her thumb over Andrea’s soft skin in rhythmic circles.

A painful realisation dawned on Miranda. This was the first time she had physically touched the object of her affections. Yet, sadly this was not how she had imagined it would be.   
                                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andrea Sachs used her writing as escapism, a way of feeding her ravenous imagination and ingenuity. In the real world she lived her day to day life surrounded by routine and familiarity; home comforts were her anchor.

She was not a morning person, every morning she would rouse to a cacophony of amalgamated sounds around her apartment and building. The ancient water pipes groaning, the clacking heels on the laminated flooring in the apartment above and the low hum of the city traffic outside her window. All these sounds brought to crescendo by her alarm clock, it was a rough unwelcomed coercion to open her eyes, but it was nonetheless her routine.

This morning was different for her, something wasn’t right; she got the sense that 'this' was not her apartment. Forcing her eyes open, Andy tried to focus in the dimly lit room, there was nothing familiar. ‘ _Where am I? What is that sound? And why is Miranda Priestly asleep in that chair?’_ The endless questions ran through her mind, convincing her that she was trapped in some cruel nightmare _._

Andy tried to sit up but found that she couldn’t move, she tried to speak but her mouth was blocked, she tried to scream but there was no sound. The steady beeping in the room became more and more erratic, alarms started screaming around her. When suddenly she saw a flash of movement in the corner of her eye and a figure rushed to her side… _‘Miranda?’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

The chair was clearly not designed with comfort in mind. Nevertheless, Miranda had experienced far worse in her lifetime. Earlier that evening she had kicked off her breakneck heels and felt some relief— in that—the seat was at least spacious enough to curl her legs up. The blanket however—circa 1972—surely belonged in a homeless shelter not a cutting edge hospital?

 _‘Just close your eyes for ten minutes.’_ Miranda tried to reason with herself. _‘You are exhausted, rest for a bit.’_ Miranda let her eyes close and listened to the beeping rhythmically around her, within seconds she slipped into a deep sleep.

The screeching alarms ripped Miranda from slumber. Disoriented and sore from the position she had been forced into—on the less than comfortable chair— it took her a few seconds to slide back into reality, Andrea.

The legions of machines were announcing their dissatisfaction in a fanfare of alarms. Miranda leapt from the chair and to Andrea’s side. The young woman was awake, clearly confused and scared. Panic, pure unadulterated fear had clearly gripped Andrea; Miranda could see it in her eyes. She took the young woman’s hand on instinct, just as a medical team burst through the door.

A tall man in scrubs bustled past Miranda as the room was illuminated with light. “I need you to step back Ma’am” The man spoke as he broke the grip of their hands.

“What’s happening?” Miranda asked without answer. She could hear the fear in her own voice.

Another Doctor joined the room. A tall, blonde woman—the type of woman who should be on a catwalk not a hospital ward— swept in and the took the hand that Miranda had been pulled away from. A nurse reached forward to silence the alarms and the blonde Doctor spoke calmly and softly to the panicked patient.

“Andrea? Andrea, sweetheart look at me!" Andy locked eyes with the Doctor. “I am Doctor Miller. You have been in an accident. You are in the hospital, but you are going to be just fine. You had a little trouble breathing in the operating room so we had to put this tube in to help you.” The Doctor swept her hand gently down Andrea’s cheek and continued her reassuring words.  “I know it is uncomfortable, I know you are scared but I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?” Andrea nodded and then broke the stare; her eyes flittered around the people in the room, finally fixing on Miranda again.

The doctor turned to Miranda “Can I suggest that you wait outside, this may not be pretty.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Miranda stated. This fact was non-negotiable.

The Doctor turned back to her patient. “Ok, Andrea. We are going to take the tube out now. This is going to feel weird, but it will be over really quickly.” She offered her instructions as she carefully removed the tape that had been holding the tube firmly in place. “On the count of three, I need you take a deep breath, and then a long breath out as I pull the tube out. Ready?” Andy nodded her head. “Ok, one, two, three.” The tube came out in one smooth motion. Andy gagged and coughed uncontrollably, unable to stop the vomit that followed behind it.

Andy tried to speak but her throat was so dry and sore that she only managed a small croak. She laid her head back on the pillow, her movements were still restricted from all the wires and she felt incredibly weak.

The medical team carried on working around her for a short while longer, before the Doctor addressed Andrea again. “We are all done here! Nurse May will be bring you some ice chips to help your throat, your friend can give them to you when you are ready. I’ll be back to check on you a little while.” the doctor beamed a radiant smile at both Andy and Miranda then left the room as decisively as she had entered.

 _Friend? Wait! Miranda?_ Andy took a second to pull her thoughts together.

The two women were now alone in the room. Andy took a moment to evaluate the situation. She had lived through what she could only describe as: the worse twenty-four hours of her life. Now, she thought. _‘What the hell was Miranda doing there? Was it a gift or further punishment?_ ’ Andy prayed for the former.

The door clicked open and a woman in white scrubs, whom Andy presumed to be Nurse May entered. The nurse handed Miranda a cone shaped cup and then began to fiddle with a few buttons on a machine, leaving the room a few minutes later without a word.

Alone again, Miranda sighed and gestured to the cup. “Shall we?”  Andy nodded her response. Miranda stepped forward approaching the bed and gripped some of the ice between her well-manicured fingers.

Andy parted her lips and allowed Miranda to place them in her mouth. She felt Miranda’s thumb run tenderly across her bottom lip and as she looked up into the deep sapphire pools, she could instantly read the concern and fear in her eyes.

A single tear ran down the young woman’s colourless cheek, which Miranda brushed away as she cupped her face with her hand. “Don’t cry its ok. You are safe now.” She whispered.

Andy began to sob silently and this time Miranda ran her fingers through the top of Andrea’s brown locks. “No more of this nonsense Andrea.” She whispered again softly. “I want you to close your eyes and relax. I will be here when you wake up.”

“Yes Miranda.” Her sweet voice was husky and forced.

Miranda wiped away a stray tear as it slid down her own perfect white cheek and she turned to reach for the chair that she had been sleeping in to pull it closer to the bed. Rummaging in her bag she pulled out her BlackBerry®, to check the time. “Urrrrhhhh.” Miranda groaned through a breath. _‘Five-forty-two in the morning. There is no point in trying to sleep now.’_ She thought as she rolled her eyes.

And so Miranda took out _The Book,_ a pad of _post it notes_ and her _Visconti_ fountain pen to revisit her scathing comments from just a few hours ago. She could feel Andrea’s eyes watching her, as she sat in the chair and pulled her bare feet up beneath her body.

Seeing the shoeless feet reminded Andy of another time and place and she allowed herself to smile. The rhythmic beeps from the machinery surrounded her and she took comfort in the turning of the pages and scratching of the pen on the pad. Reminiscing, she wondered what soul-destroying comments and insults were spilling from the pen, help her mind to drift and into sleep.  

Alas, the peaceful sleep did not last, the darkness crept in and demons came knocking on her door. A sudden flash of memory landed, and a realisation that the nightmare was real. Andrea’s eyes flew open and she reached out grabbing Miranda’s shoulder, feeling the pain as she stretched. Miranda jumped violently at the unexpected movement.

 

“My Dictaphone!?” Andrea rasped.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

“My Dictaphone” She repeated her throat was raw forcing her to speak in a whisper. “I got it; I got it all on tape. I need it!” She paused, nausea taking hold again. “Redemption, they’ve got to pay for what they’ve done, Miranda. I wont let all this be for nothing” Her eyes were wild, her breathing shallow.

“Calm down, Andrea.” Miranda pleaded as she placed her hand on the young woman’s arm. She struggled to see her so overwrought, but she knew that this level of passion was one of the reasons she had captured her heart. She reached over the bed and pressed the call button.

“I need it, what did they do with my things? I don’t remember what happened afterwards, the last thing I remember was the church.” The door opened quietly and a summoned Nurse May stepped inside.

“Yes Ladies, how can I help you?” She looked from one woman to another, her cheery smile drained away at the sight of distress on both faces.

“It appears that Andrea had some belongings when she was brought into the hospital. She is concerned that they may fall into the wrong hands.”

The nurse paused trying to recall what had happened during Andrea’s admission. “I know that your clothes were discarded after the emergency team cut them off you. But any other belongs would have been brought up here with you. Give me a few minutes and I’ll check what we have.” The nurse left the room leaving Andy and Miranda alone again.

Andrea looked at Miranda, felt her warm and comforting hand on her arm and remembered how she had promised herself that if she got to Miranda again how she tell her…everything. _There’s no time like the present!_ Andy thought. “Miranda, I have so much I want to say to you, but I can’t seem to find the words.” Andrea’s voice was still whispered and forced from the intubation tube, making Miranda lean in closer to hear her.

“I suppose you are wondering why am I here?” Miranda asked gently.

“Before you say anything, let me say how grateful I was to see a…um…friendly face this morning. I am truly sorry for everything that happened between us, the way I left; it was incredibly unprofessional. There isn’t a day that goes by, where I don’t think about it, and if I have to spend every minute making up for that, I will do it.” Andy cleared her throat and Miranda fed her the remainder of the melting ice chips, careful to catch the water droplets with her fingers. Breaking the silence, Andy continued. “I know that you are very selective over whom, you choose to give your time to and I feel honoured that you have chosen to give it to me today.”

“Andrea.” Miranda wanted to tell Andrea that none of this mattered right now and that she was there for her.

“Please let me finish?” Andrea pleaded. She took Miranda’s silence as permission to continue. She felt that if she didn’t get the words out now she would lose her nerve. “I was so scared.” The tears were brimming again. “All I could think about was what I haven’t done yet, what I have to say to the world, how much love I have to give.” A tear escaped and she let out a small laugh. “God, how shallow does that make me sound?”

“Are you quite finished?” Miranda raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, but her tone lacked any malice. “Thank you for bestowing several chapters of war and peace, Andrea. But I simply wanted to say that I am here, because I realised that you mean something to me. It’s taken a long time for me to admit this, but a world without your smile would be a lonely place.” Miranda looked into her eyes and offered a shy smile, a slight pink tingeing her cheeks. Andy stared back, now speechless, mouth open imitating a goldfish.

Nurse May bustled back into the room. Perplexity streamed across her soft features. “Well, it seems we do not have your possessions.”

“Explain!” Miranda stood to face the nurse her arms folded across her chest.

“I have been informed, that as part of an active criminal investigation case, the NYPD internal affairs officers have confiscated your belongings.” She read from a piece of paper in her hand.  “A watch, a card wallet, a set of keys and a recording device. Also, I believe that there are more items they are holding from the crime scene; everything has been taken down-town. The two officers outside, are asking when you will be ready to be interviewed too.”

“Thank you for the information, Nurse! However, Andrea is not ready, I will be sure to inform them when she is. That’s all.”

‘ _Clearly, this woman has delusions of grandeur!’_ Nurse May thought as she rolled her eyes, but she didn’t need to be told twice to leave.

“Oh fuck!” Andrea breathed her response.

“We do not need to resort to vulgarism Andrea. We just need to review the situation. It is…” she reached for her BlackBerry® again. “…ten past six. I will take a few minutes to clean up and then make some calls to get the day back on track. All I require is for you to lay back, close your eyes and relax. You need to focus on getting better. Am I making myself clear?” Her face was stone cold but her eyes were filled with warmth.

“Yes Miranda.” Once again, Miranda reached out and gently squeezed Andrea’s arm before disappearing into the en-suite.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda looked into the mirror, her make-up was now freshly applied and her hair had been restyled to its usual standard. With years of experience in all night run-throughs and emergency rewrites under her belt, erasing a night in a hospital chair was a breeze. Her reflection stared back, the usual emptiness in her eyes had disappeared; she felt alive again.

After closing her bag, she opened the bathroom door as quietly as possible. The sight of Andrea resting peacefully was beautiful. The steady beat of the monitor, forced the harsh reminder of how lucky she was to be here with her. A smile danced across Miranda’s lips…this was her second chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy had closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the pillow. A trillion thoughts were rushing around in her brain, images from before the accident and after.  The medication took the edge off the pain but it slowed everything down and she fought to make sense of flashes of memory.

When she had analysed it in the past, leaving Runway had not been a difficult choice. Leaving the lifestyle, the power, the glamour, she could put it all into perspective. Leaving Miranda however had been one of the hardest decisions of her life. She had spent what felt like every-waking-second of her day, for almost twelve months, anticipating the woman’s wants and needs. It was pure dedication and on her part, much to the detriment of all the relationships in her life. Miranda made her want to be the best she could be, to strive for perfection. At the time she had no explanation as to why she did it; what was driving her? How did Miranda have such hold over her?

To Andy, Miranda was like a drug; an addiction. She had taken over her nervous system and the detox when she’d left _Runway_ had been almost unbearable.

What was it Nigel had said? _“When your life goes up in smoke, its time for a promotion…’_ ”

The job at _The New York Post_ had helped her make the transition, allowing her to put all her time and energy into something new, but it was no twelve-step programme. She had simply substituted one narcotic for another—though in reality, it was like swapping Heroin for an Aspirin.

Andy was born to write. She knew it was how she would make the world a better place, her contribution. Her inspiring work, uncovering the horrors of the child protection services had propelled her into investigative journalism and the crime desk. In the last few months, she’d been approached by several publications and was considering the leap to free lance work.

Her personal life was different story; basically, she didn’t have one. Friends, old school and college acquaintances were long gone. Lovers were few and far between; nothing more than fleeting one night stands. Work came first but with the bravado aside, she was incredibly lonely.

Miranda’s presence was like a dream, would she wake and have the last twenty-four hours disappear? Would this all be some cruel trick of the mind? No matter what had happened, no matter how much pain she was feeling, right now. She knew didn’t want to wake up to a reality without her.

This was the real Miranda here beside her, not the icon. The woman she had been fortunate to catch glimpse of in the past, she was here to be with her. Andrea couldn’t lose this again, the feeling was euphoric.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily Charlton closed the door to the five star hotel suite with a muted click. She carried her four-inch heels until she reached the carpeted hallway, mindful of the obtrusive sound on the marble floor. The elevator door pinged open and she stepped in, grateful that she was alone. She took a moment to examine herself in the mirrors covering the walls, taking in her appearance she sighed in disgust. Her clothes looked distinctly worn, which was unavoidable considering the previous night’s activities. One saving grace was that she had taken the time to reapply her face and make her hair presentable, before starting the walk of shame.  

As she took a step into the lobby her phone began to vibrate. There was only one person it could be at this time and so she flicked open the clasp and took a deep breath before answering.

“Good morning Miranda.” After the previous evening’s interruption, she had been anticipating this call all night and had played out a million different scenarios in her head, each one infinitely worse than the next.

“Emily, go to the town house, prepare my overnight bag. I’ll expect you at my location, with coffee in forty minutes.” The call released leaving Emily frozen to the spot.

“Buggery, shitting, bollocks!” She cursed out-loud. “I may as well just kill myself now!” ‘ _Where in God’s name was she? AND what were the remote chances of any overnight bag she packed, meeting the Priestly standard?’_ Emily took a deep breath. “Good god woman, you have got to calm down!” She said aloud again. Taking a breath to compose herself, she flicked her cell phone back open. “Roy, please tell me you know where she is?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Miranda left Andrea’s room and walked up the hall, blanking the officers sat outside. She turned the corner and approached the Nurse’s station.

The stilettos signalled her approach as all heads lifted in her direction. “Excuse me.” Miranda spoke gently to Nurse May as those behind Nurse May remained frozen to the spot. “My assistant will be arriving in approximately thirty minutes. I would appreciate it if you could authorise her admittance. She will be carrying some of my personal items and fresh coffee. I trust that this will not be an issue?”

“I’ll deal with it personally Ms. Priestly.” Nurse May smiled.

“Thank you Nurse.” Miranda nodded courteously, pondering why her employees didn’t display this simple level of competence?

Miranda walked back down the hall, intent on dealing with the savages guarding the room. Miranda addressed the burly officer as he stood to attention upon her approach. “Sergeant Reynolds.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I will need the name of the investigating District Attorney, as well as the Chief of the NYPD Internal Affairs bureau, I trust that this request does not surpass your intelligence threshold?” She smiled at him through gritted teeth.

The officer retuned the same clenched smile. “How I look forward to our little chats Ms. Priestly.” He answered and considered questioning the need for the information but then thought twice. He knew that his woman was a big deal for some reason and it had been a long night. “I’ll speak to my Captain and get right back to you.”

“Do try and move faster than a tectonic plate.” She snarled, pursing her lips at the officer before walking away.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda took out her BlackBerry® again to make her second call of the morning. She spoke as she heard the line pick up. “I see that you decided to accept my call this time, Mr. Curran?”

“Always a pleasure Miranda!” His voice dripped with acidity and there was no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice.  “How is my girl?”

“Her condition improved through the night. I’m sure she would appreciate your concern, but then, that is Andrea’s way.” Her tone was as cold as ice. “It is my observation, Mr. Curran that you and your little rag are not in control of this situation, which I find wholly unacceptable. My assistant will contact you to obtain any relevant information and I strongly suggest that you cease from running with this story.”

“You’ve got some nerve Priestly!” Curran balled his fists tightly. ‘ _Who does woman think she is? She has got no idea what she is getting into.’_ He fumed.

“I would think very carefully before you continue that sentence, Mr. Curran.” She had no intention of holding any punches. She knew very little about what exactly had happened but this—the media—was her world and if need be, she knew how to fight dirty. “It seems to me that you have no story? All that can be substantiated, has already been broadcasted in real-time. With your key witness unavailable for interview, with all evidence to support a story locked away downtown, you have nothing. As far as I am concerned; anything you may attempt to publish at this stage will only be conjecture and may only serve to endanger Andrea’s life further. Mr. Curran, I would urge you not to fight me on this. That’s all. ”

Miranda pressed the release key and looked at the time on the digital display of her cell phone. ‘ _Where is that insufferable girl?_ She thought, desperate for her hit of caffeine _. ‘Has she gone to Brazil for the coffee_?’  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily had opened the door before the car reached a full stop, her heels hitting the pavement smoothly. Some how she miraculously managed to slam the car door, whilst throwing a Louis Vuitton Cruiser bag over her shoulder, clutching onto a bundle of daily publications and juggling a tray of Coffee without spilling a drop. Her stride had built to a canter by the time she reached the reception desk.

“Emily Charlton, to see Miranda Priestly.” The breathless British woman clipped sharply.

The woman behind the desk looked Emily up and down and in return she received a well-practised death stare. A plump woman in white scrubs rolled her eyes at Emily and stepped forward from behind the receptionist.

“Look!” Emily leaned forward eyeing the name badge. “Nurse Robinson is it? If I do not deliver these items this minute, the consequences do not bear thinking about.”

Nurse Robinson struggled to contain her smirk as she pressed the release button on the security doors. “Cortez!” She called.  “Please take Miss. Charlton to the Trauma ward, Nurse May is expecting her.”

Emily heaved a sigh of relief and galloped through the open doorway. “Do come on CorrrTez!” Emily purred, over enunciating the orderly’s name, as she threw the travel bag at him. “I don’t have all bloody day.”

After what felt like a hike through the Himalayas to her suffering feet, they arrived at the Nurse’s station on the trauma ward. Cortez announced Emily’s arrival and placed the bag at her feet before turning to sprint away.

During the journey and on the torturous trek through the endless hospital corridors, Emily realised that she hadn’t actually thought about why Miranda was here. ‘ _Always the last to know’_ She thought as she sighed deeply. Then there it was, sound that caused Emily faintheartedness, anxiety and blind panic to this day. The sound of the heels and the distinctive stride, there was no mistaking the footsteps; it was Miranda.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

Miranda walked away from the nurse’s station; Emily clacking closely behind her. She turned down a long corridor, which led to a small deserted seating area. There were several coffee and confectionary machines and small monitor screwed to the wall with _Good Morning America_ , playing away to the empty room. Miranda’s lip curled in disgust, as she sat gingerly on a faded-red plastic chair.

Emily handed Miranda a Starbuck’s cup that she had collected from one of the many twenty-four hour stores they had found en-route. She had already downed a double espresso in the car, but now she wished she had ordered more as she prepared for the inevitable trip to gallows and her punishment for the less than scalding coffee. To Emily’s surprise, there was only silence as her _Royal Highness,_ simply sipped her coffee regally.

From her seat, Miranda looked Emily up and down several times, a pensive look upon her face. The hair: acceptable. The make-up: acceptable. The dress: acceptable. Why did she look so dishevelled? Had she slept in her clothes? The highly-strung assistant stood before her, pen and paper at the ready poised for her first action. Miranda sighed and began her tirade.

“Cancel all my appointments, the earliest re-arrangement to be Monday. Notify Nigel that I expect him to oversee productivity in my absence. Just because the western world chooses to shut down during the holidays, it does not mean that we do too! I want to see the revised London schedule on my desk for Monday. Oh and I will not be attending the ball this evening, set up a call with Irv mid-morning so that I can inform him of the situation.”

The tightly-wound assistant was frantically recording the instructions spilling from Miranda’s mouth, whilst her own questions flew around her brain. ‘ _Why? Why was all this happening?’_ She was desperate to ask, but in that moment, she didn’t have the courage. ‘ _You never ask Miranda a question_.’ Thankfully, for Emily’s sake she didn’t need to as Miranda offered an explanation.

“Emily, I do not need to explain my actions to anyone, a fact, I know you are well aware of. However, this is a particularly sensitive matter and it’s not just a case of reputation on the line here, there are lives at stake!” Miranda paused and took a deep breath. “An associate…no, a friend of mine has been injured. Shot. The situation is somewhat volatile and the NYPD internal affairs department are now involved. The details of how and why are not important at this stage, the important thing is that I am involved, which means you are involved. A security team are here at the hospital and you will work from here until I instruct otherwise. Is that clear?” Emily simply nodded her response; her face did not display the fear and shock that bubbled inside.

Although Miranda would never say it, she knew that Emily was a pivotal cog in her well-oiled machine. She could execute tasks to the letter, but disappointingly, she often struggled to think outside of the box. However, what Emily lacked in innovation she made up in devotion, she was the sheep-dog to Miranda’s shepherd, an important piece of her jigsaw. Meticulously co-ordinating the schedule of a celestial being was not an easy task yet Miranda knew she could trust her implicitly.

Without missing a beat, Miranda continued to relay her orders. “Call _The Post_ and obtain all the details I have asked for, call my ex-husband advise him of the situation and that his request to return the Girls is not acceptable, I will not negotiate on this. Also, I have requested some information from the officer assigned to the room, you will notify me when it is available. You will deal with them now; I do not wish to speak to that moron again.” Miranda rose from her seat and began walking back towards to the Nurses station. There was no sign of a dismissal so Emily scooped up the overnight bag tucked the papers under her arm and seamlessly fell into step; pen and pad poised for more instructions. “I suggest you find both of us something suitably edible, however, if you wish to continue your employment I would avoid anything that originated from a vending machine or the hospital cafeteria.”

Turning down a new corridor, Emily spotted the two officers immediately. Both men, looked a little worse for wear, it had clearly been a long shift. The first man was seated in the centre of the hall, with his jutting brow and prominent square jaw; it was obvious that he frequented the gym. His bulging muscles were visible through his polyester grey suit, ‘ _Polyester, ewww, unforgivable!’_ Emily thought and shivered at the fashion crime before her eyes. The other gentleman was the polar opposite. He was positioned at the far end of the hall, even seated she could see that he was tall and slim. He sat with his eyes fixed in the pages of a worn paperback novel. His suit was a little ruffled from the night in the chair but it had an expensive tailored cut. _‘Unmistakably, Hugo Boss.’_ She nodded subconsciously in approval.

Miranda halted, turning her back to the now standing Sergeant Reynolds. She held out her hand out to take the bag and stack of daily magazines and papers that Emily had thoughtfully included. “I’ll expect you to stay out here, knock when you have completed all the actions. Do not enter this room, is that clear?”

“Of course Miranda.” Emily wasn’t sure what forced her to continue; curiosity or a moment of mental derangement, she couldn’t be sure. “Miranda…who? Why are we here?”

Miranda locked eyes with her long-suffering assistant, taking a moment to consider the appropriate method of torture for the sheer audacity of the girl. She took a moment to think about it, she really had no cause to strike; it was after all a perfectly reasonable enquiry. Maintaining the stare, her features softened. “Andrea.”  Miranda breathed and then watched Emily with intently. She was fully aware of Emily’s disdain for the injured woman and the extent of their tumultuous past during Andrea’s employment in the Miranda’s office. Therefore, it came as no surprise to see Emily face to twist in confusion and then smooth into shock as the realisation of the answer dawned on her.

Emily’s mouth opened but nothing came out and as Miranda turned on her heel, knew she’d missed her opportunity to probe any deeper. But then she began to feel grateful for Miranda’s rapid departure. As the likelihood of controlling any kind of nonsensical rant did not seem possible in this moment.

Huffing over to the seating area, Emily eyed the polyester-donned man beside her and tutted, in a mix of annoyance and disbelief. Sitting down in the chair opposite him, she concentrated on regaining her stellar composure before going to work on her to do list.  
                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy drifted in and out of sleep; the dreams were vivid and frightening. She re-played scenes from the last twenty-four hours repeatedly. Continuous thoughts of blame and regret played heavy on her mind.

_I could have helped him. I could have made a difference…what happens now? Will they try to hurt me again? What about my family? What about Miranda?’_

The sound of the door clicking pulled Andy from her fitful doze. She watched warily as Doctor Miller and a young woman in a nurse’s uniform approached the bed. They were both wearing ridiculously large smiles for the early hour, which only caused to unsettle her more. She looked round the room for Miranda, but she was not there.

“Hi Andrea, Do you remember me?” The Doctor asked sweetly. “I thought I’d stop in to see what we can do to make you a little more comfortable.”

The doctor’s cheery bedside manner was almost infectious and after a few moments Andy felt herself at ease. “Please call me Andy.” She said returning the smile; “Do you know where Miranda is?”

“Your friend? I believe she is with a red-haired woman in the family room up the corridor. The nurses are having a field day.” The Doctor looked over to the nurse and they both shared a shot giggle.  

Andy felt a smirk spread to her lips. “Oh poor Em!” She sympathised. “She’s Miranda’s assistant. I have no doubt that my presence has caused her a world of pain. Do you have any sedatives handy? She may need them.” Andy tried to keep a straight face but she failed miserably as the two woman giggled again.

“It’s nice to see you smiling.” The doctor said warmly through her own smile. “How about we take a few of these lines away and try to freshen you up a bit?”

Andy nodded with enthusiasm. “That would be fabulous!”

Doctor Miller studied the read outs on the numerous machines beside and above Andy, jotting information on to her personal chart, whilst conferring with the nurse working with her. “Ok, let’s make a start.” The doctor fitted a new pulse monitor on Andy’s forefinger and examined the central line running into the arterial vein on her neck. She gently detached the gauze holding it in place and removed it in one smooth motion, whilst the nurse applied the appropriate pressure. Andy’s heavily medicated body didn’t feel a pinch. “One line down. Now, let’s have a look at your stitches, I’ll have to unfasten your gown, ok?”

Andy nodded again and let the women continue feeling a little too weak to assist their efforts. The women positioned themselves on either side of the patient and used the motorised bed to move Andy gently into a sitting position.

As the bed moved, Andy felt her first jolt of pain. Her chest felt heavy and the upward motion left her feeling sick to her stomach. The nurse untied the gown and gently slipped it down over her shoulders and arms, exposing her full torso. Andy fought the urge to look at her shoulder as the two women worked together to gently remove the dressing.

Hearing the door open and close, all three women over at the bed looked up.

Miranda had finished her meeting with Emily and had come back into the room. The curtain around the bed had been drawn to afford the patient some privacy, but not effectively enough.  

Forgetting her state of undress Andy locked eyes with Miranda and beamed a radiating smile, at the older woman. She realised at that moment how much she had missed her in the short time she was gone. She noted the reddened cheeks on the face before her. _‘Is Miranda blushing?’_ She pondered with some amusement.  

Miranda lived and breathed fashion. She had been solely responsible for selecting, guiding, and mentoring some of the most beautiful models and revolutionary designers in the industry for the past thirty years. Surrounded by scantily clad bodies, daily, she had learned to see them as inanimate objects. Some nothing more than mannequins, some a blank canvas for the most talented of her protégés to paint their masterpieces. Nevertheless, as Miranda Priestly entered Andrea’s room she had felt the need to avert her eyes. It was as she did not deserve to look upon her beauty, she had not yet earned the right.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were having treatment, I’ll…” as she made to leave, Andy called out.

“No, Miranda. Don’t go.” Miranda turned around facing Andy but still averting her eyes.

“Miranda, look at me.” Andy requested firmly. With the eye contact recaptured Andy continued softening her tone. “You said you would only be gone a few minutes, I was beginning to worry. I thought maybe the men in white coats had taken you away?” Her lips curled into a smirk, knowing fine well that she was skating on thin ice teasing Miranda so boldly, but she took the chance anyway. Much to Andy’s surprise, Miranda laughed aloud…it was beautiful. 

“Well, it’s nice to see that the medication hasn’t affected your wit, I can’t say as much for your dignity though.” She smiled, shaking off her initial embarrassment and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to highlight her awareness of Andrea’s semi naked body.

With the awkward moment averted, Miranda returned to her chair and waited patiently as Doctor Miller examined the wound. The room settled in a comfortable silence apart from the occasional wince from Andy as the Doctor manoeuvred over the sensitive area. After a while the curiosity got the better of Andy and she dared to look down at the wound. She caught the attention of the three other women in the room as she emitted a sudden groan of disgust in protest to the mess of black stitching, dried blood and yellow iodine stained all over her upper body. Andy looked over to Miranda hoping to see a sense of empathy but instead she was met with a pursing of the lips. Somehow she knew without the need for explanation that the look was telling her that she cared but to stop being such a drama queen. Andy smiled at Miranda and Miranda raised her eyebrow briefly before returning an affectionate smile of her own. 

The nurse broke the stare down by opening an antiseptic stick and moving in close to rub it in rhythmic circles across the coloured skin. When the nurse was finished, she and the Doctor patiently applied the fresh dressings and re-tied Andrea’s gown. The nurse left the room, leaving the Doctor to talk to her patient.

“Good as new.” The doctor smiled as she completed the chart.

“What about this one?” Andy pointed to her hand where intravenous tubes remained. “And this one?” She questioned, gesturing discreetly to her crotch.

“The IV needs to stay in your hand for now, until we get your fluids back up and we will use it push your meds. As for the other, I don’t think you are quite ready to do your first lap of honoraround the ward just yet, so until then the Foley stays put. I’m going off to complete my rounds now. Nurse Carla will return shortly with today’s liquid a la carte menu. Let’s see if we can get your strength up, then we can think about that walk about, ok?”

Andy nodded her response. Before the Doctor continued. “Ms. Priestly can I get you anything?”

Miranda moved to sit down next to Andrea and then looked across from one woman to the other. “No thank you Doctor, I have everything I need right here.” 

  
                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
“Have you had a busy morning?” Andy asked, breaking the silence with her question.

“Yes I have, but we still have a way to go.”

Andy was too busy analysing the ‘we’ word in Miranda’s response so she wasn’t quite prepared for the switch in Miranda’s tone as she continued.

“I won’t lecture you on your actions Andrea, but I do need to understand why?” The stone glare bore down on Andy, she felt the ice queen return.

Andy felt exhausted; the earlier examination had really taken it out of her. The harsh words and the sudden confrontation caused several garish images to flash through her brain. Again, blame, regret and fear came calling. She wanted so much for Miranda to make it go away, to make her feel safe again but everything was so messed up. She wanted to be swept-up in her arms. To be protected from the world but she knew deep down that she could never feel that way again.

“Miranda, I was just doing my job.” Andy pleaded.

Miranda was on her feet pacing the room, clearly infuriated. “No!” She cut in. “I don’t know exactly what happened but I do know that you were reckless and selfish.”

“Miranda, I…” Andy began.

“Stop!” Miranda ordered and then paused for a beat to take a deep breath.  “I’m sorry.” She said in a calmer tone. “I know I said no lectures. I just need you to understand how scared I was when I saw the news report. I can’t accept the fact that you willingly put yourself in such a dangerous situation.”

“I don’t know what made me behave that way.” Andy said timidly fixing her eyes on her lap. She continued softly, keeping her eyes down, afraid to look into Miranda’s eyes. “I suppose being alone you can afford to be selfish. There’s no-one waiting for you to come home, no-one to hold you through the night, no-one to laugh with you. When work is all you have, you begin to forget the consequence of risk.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She felt like her heart had been ripped wide-open. There was a gapping hole of vulnerability on show for the world to see.

Andy felt Miranda’s hand slip over hers, it was so soft and so warm. It was just what she needed to pull her out of the spiralling dark thoughts. She looked into Miranda’s eyes and whispered gently. “So what happens now?”

“You aren’t alone anymore, Andrea. I’m here.” Miranda couldn’t recall when had stopped questioning herself and when it had become so clear. Because, right now there was no doubt in her mind how much this woman meant to her.

On any normal day, if anyone were to ask, Miranda Priestly, if she believed in fate. They would mostly likely receive a cutting eye-roll or a damning purse of the lips for their ridiculous question. But this was not an ordinary day and even Miranda found herself pondering if there wasn’t some higher power at work here. She felt like she had been given a second chance to have Andrea back in her life and she wasn’t about to scoff at that opportunity.

“Beside,” Miranda added, jumping out of her thoughts and giving Andrea’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve added Emily to your security detail. She is waiting outside the room.”

“Good Lord.” Andy chuckled “You didn’t give her a gun did you?” Miranda shared the smile and then let go of Andrea’s hand to return to her chair. 

  
                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emily was almost giddy by the time she finished her tasks, she had sacrificed two months worth of calories by downing a can of Red Bull from the overpriced vending machine. She was wired!

The first task was not difficult, she knew exactly what would and wouldn’t pass muster as a suitable meal. She had set about searching Google maps for the nearest food establishments and to her joy she had found an Organic cafe who could deliver.

As for the next task, Emily knew exactly how to get what she wanted from men, she found that they were so easy. Sergeant Reynolds was no different and within minutes she had the contact number for both the D.A and the Chief of the I.A.B safely in her grasp. An unexpected bonus had been when she’d convinced him to pull his Captain’s visit forward an hour, to meet Miranda’s schedule.

Next on the list was Irv. She checked the time on her cell, his office wouldn’t be open yet so she left a message on his snooty assistant’s voicemail to arrange a meeting. Colleen might be a stuck up bitch but Emily knew that at least she was competent.

The conversation with the ex-husband had gone exactly as expected. Miranda’s comments were relayed to Greg as instructed. Emily rode out the wave as he threw toy after toy out of the pram, patiently letting him get it out of his system. All she had to do was remind him why there was no point in arguing and then she sent him sulking back to his playpen with his tail between his legs.

The final task was to speak to the Editor of The Post, Mr. Curran. He had been unavailable to take her call when she rang, which had initially riled the young British woman. However, after she spoke with, Glenda, his assistant—an older sounding woman with a strong Brooklyn accent—she felt so much better. Glenda had kindly informed Emily that all of Andrea’s notes and files would be sent over to Runway by messenger in the next hour and as discussed between Mr. Curran and Ms. Priestly, The Post would not be going to press with any further updates at this stage. Emily smirked to herself internally; she had been prepared for a battle but thankfully she could store that energy for greater use.   Now, all that remained was to update Miranda on the situation. _‘Thank god for Red Bull,’_ thought Emily.

  
                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The morning schedule moved quite smoothly for Miranda, her phone conversation with Irv Ravitz had been as expected. He was less than pleased at the news Miranda would not be attending the New Year’s Eve ball and even less pleased that she would be taking a few days off. If truth be told, he was screaming like a little girl caught in the throws of a tantrum by the time Miranda put the phone down.  But, as far as she was concerned her call to Irv was simply an extension of professional courtesy, she didn’t actually care what his reaction was. She was untouchable and he knew it, she had the board eating out her hand and there was nothing he could do about it.

Miranda knew that today’s main challenge for Andrea would be the police interview. Going over the details of the night wouldn’t be easy for her and Miranda had doubts about her own reserve too. Andrea had asked Miranda to stay with her and although she didn’t admit it to the young woman, she had not intended on being anywhere else but at her side.

They had spent most of the morning flicking through the days papers and glossy magazines, a relaxed silence filled the room in what would have been a perfectly romantic Saturday morning if the circumstances had been different.

There had been a few tears at breakfast after Andrea had been unable to keep some liquidized concoction down. Andy had apologised profusely, clearly embarrassed but to her surprise Miranda just took it in her stride, she just stayed by her side as the nurse changed her gown and bedding, assuring her that it was to be expected with the medication.

The knock on the door came promptly at ten o’clock. A distinguished middle-aged man entered the room and confidently introduced himself.

“Good morning Ladies, I am Captain Moore, from the Internal Affairs Bureau.” Miranda stood from her seat and moved to Andrea’s side. “Miss. Sachs I’d like to ask you some questions if you feel up it?” Andy nodded and Captain Moore took out his voice recorder and opened up his flip pad.

Andy spent the next thirty minutes recalling the entire sequence of events of the previous evening from start to finish as the police man and Miranda listened patiently taking in each horrific detail. After relaying her story, Andy paused and turned to the officer. “What does this mean for me now Captain?”

“Well the good news is that ballistic report came back with a match between the bullet, which we retrieved from your shoulder and a weapon we have on file. Forensics also retrieved multiple shells from the crime scene and they have been able to match the weapon with the owner. Miss. Sachs, you need to know that this incident was part of much larger investigation. We’ve been building this case for the last twelve months, with undercover informants placed in every precinct across the city. As I am sure you are aware, it takes months to build these types of cases. Our big break came last night, with Officer O’Hanlon, the man you met with. This is really gave us the jump we need, an important part of the puzzle. We were able to start making arrests this morning before dawn."

Andy was still a little shaken from the questioning. “Your big break?” She asked, appalled by his insensitive choice of words. “What about all the people who have lost their lives? Fathers? Sons? Innocent people?”

In retrospect, Captain Moore knew that his choice of words had been poor. He had become hardened to these horrors. He had learned how to disconnect himself from the emotional side of the case, the job had destroyed his marriage and his family a long time ago, but it had made him a better cop. Andrea’s reaction had reminded him why he fought for the innocent. _‘She is young. If she’s lucky she’ll keep her innocence, the extent of her exposure is reversible.’_

“Miss. Sachs.” He continued trying to offer her some reassurance. “Along with your tape we should have enough incriminating evidence to put these bastards away for the rest of their lives.”

“When can I have the tape back?” Andy looked into his eyes for the answer and saw emptiness, she couldn’t read him.

“The tape is part a criminal investigation case Miss. Sachs and it will remain in our custody until the trial is over.”

“I think that’s enough for today Captain. Moore” Miranda interrupted. She had heard sufficient bureaucratic nonsense for now, it was time to shut it down. “I trust that your officers will be staying here until Andrea is discharged?”

“I would insist on nothing less Ms. Priestly, thank you for your time Ladies.” He smiled at them as he gathered his belongings. Miranda believed his sincerity, it was genuine.

Once they were alone again, Miranda turned to Andrea and took her hand gently. “Are you ok?”

All the time Andy had spent at Runway she heard nothing but insults and vicious comments made by the employees, the press and professional associates against Miranda. It had been an unending attack. The Snow Queen, the Dragon Lady, with her iron fist and her ruthless mentality. To Andy’s amazement Miranda had always just taken it all in her stride. All they saw was the icon and the statuesque figure. But for Andy, she was a different person; she had been allowed the glimpse behind the mask. From day one, she had refused to accept that a woman, who was so brilliant, so passionate, so imperial; could ever be as cold as-all-that. When Andy had looked into her eyes she had been able to read her soul; this was when the devotion had begun.

Andy smiled and squeezed Miranda’s warm hand “I am now.” She whispered.

“Good, I’m going to check on Emily and make a few calls. I won’t be long.”

“Promise?” Andy read the distraction on Miranda’s face.

Miranda tutted and rolled her eyes at the preposterous request before patting Andrea’s hand in reassurance and then leaving the room.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Miranda stepped into the hall, she made eye contact with Emily. Emily was talking into her cell phone and furiously jotting notes on to a pad. Abruptly ending her call Emily sprung to attention. Miranda gestured with a small movement of her head and turned to walk up the corridor and after a moment Emily instinctively fell into stride at Miranda’s side and began her update.

“Lunch will be here at twelve, I have ordered light as requested, where would you prefer to eat it?”

Miranda sighed. “I don’t know why you see fit to bother me with these insignificant questions Emily, just bring it to me when it arrives.”

Emily nodded as Miranda continued without pause.

“Call my attorney set up a meeting for Monday morning. Call that security company, the one with the name I liked, the one we hired for an event last year. I’d like them to send two guards, required until further notice and notify me when they arrive. Locate Andrea’s parents, inform them that there has been an accident and then take care of any travel arrangements required. I need to speak to District Attorney Sharpe, urgently.” Miranda stopped walking and turned to face Emily. “Please remember to be discreet Emily, I don’t want the nurse’s station gossiping or either of those halfwits outside the room involved in my business.” Emily frantically scribbled the last word on to the pad as Miranda began to walk away. After a few steps, she turned and called back to Emily. “Oh a get me a deck of cards, that’s all.” 

Emily took her cue of dismissal and all but sprinted back down the hall.

  
                                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than thirty minutes later, Miranda heard a gentle knock on the door of Andrea’s room and so she stepped out quietly trying not to disturb the sleeping Andrea. Emily handed Miranda her phone, announcing in a whispered tone that District Attorney Sharpe was holding for her.

“Good Morning Beatrice.” Miranda greeted as she walked down the corridor again.  

“Hello Miranda, it’s lovely to hear from you, how are the Girls?”

“They are wonderful.” She answered, indulging the woman’s attempt at small talk. “Thank you for taking my call! How is your son?”

“Tommy is just fine. Miranda, I don’t mean to be rude but I’m having the morning from hell. I’m due in front of the Judge in fifteen minutes and I’m up to my eyeballs in warrants and subpoenas. I assume this isn’t a social call?” 

Small talk clearly over, Miranda cut to the chase. “You assumed correctly Beatrice. It’s regarding last night’s suicide and shooting in the Bronx”

Sharpe was curious. _How does Miranda know the unreleased details of the case and why does a world famous editor of a multi-billion dollar fashion magazine have an interest in my case?’_ The D.A smirked as she thought of all the possible reasons. _‘Do they want to do a mock up shoot of the crime scene? Perhaps an artistic take on homicide with next season’s accessories?’_

“How do you do you know it was suicide? They haven’t made an official statement yet.”

Miranda had met Beatrice Sharpe five years ago at a charity event, since then they crossed paths frequently at the endless events she attended; some were personal causes close to her heart and were on behalf of the board. Sharpe was what they called new money, in the Upper-Eastside. Her now ex-husband, had made his fortune in some ‘Dotcom’ venture. The divorce had been messy and very public, something Miranda knew about all too well. Sharpe however, was well regarded in both professional and social circles. She had put herself through law school, choosing prosecution and protecting the good guy. This had continued even after the money came along. There was a mutual respect between the two women.

 “Andrea Sachs.” Miranda answered cryptically.

“Do you mean the victim? I thought she was in North General under protection how did this reach you?” Sharpe paused before continuing her questioning. “I’m sorry Miranda but what the hell has this got to do with you?”

“I’m at the hospital. I’ve been here all night. Andrea is…” Miranda paused wondering how to explain exactly what Andrea was to her. She decided to settle on the simplest explanation. “She is an ex-employee and I am looking after her best interests.”

“Ok, I’m listening.” Sharpe answered. “What do you want?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

“The tape, I want a copy of the tape.” Miranda stated and then waited for a reaction from Sharpe. Sharpe remained silent on the line so she continued. “I’m not asking for the original, just a copy. You and I both know that she needs something to bargain with here and if she hadn’t been unconscious and bleeding to death there is no way she would have handed it over without securing a copy. Let’s face it, your substantiated testimonies would be about zero right now without that tape.”

  
“It’s already in evidence Miranda. I can’t do that.” Sharpe reasoned.

  
“Now we both know that’s not true.” Miranda scoffed.

  
“Not without breaking a lot of rules.”  

  
“Some rules were made to be broken.” She challenged. “I came to you because I thought you were reasonable”

  
“No Miranda” Sharpe sighed. “You came to me because you thought you could bend me to your will.”

  
“Very well Beatrice, if that how you want to play.” Miranda paused for a millisecond choosing her next words very carefully. “Andrea is caught up in something so deep that if she’s not careful it could swallow her whole. She is young and innocent, just at the start of her career. You remember what that was like, don’t you? You will obtain a copy of the tape and in return I give you my word that she will not run with the story. That is at least until the prosecution is ready. She will not jeopardise the case in anyway”   
“Why the tape?” Sharpe questioned again.

  
“Simple. This is her insurance policy.”

  
“What does this journalist have over you Miranda?” Sharpe questioned suspiciously.

  
“It’s not about that. She…” Miranda stumbled with her words. “…It’s personal.”

  
“I’ll be in touch.” With that Sharpe released the call.

  
Miranda hadn’t even begun to open the flood gates yet and Sharpe knew this all to well. Miranda Priestly was not high on the list of America’s ‘Most Powerful Women’ for nothing. She knew that Miranda had simply given her a gentle push; the threat had been minimal compared to the arsenal that she could have released. District Attorney Sharpe would take the bruised ego and count herself lucky…this time.

  
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Emily was pacing the floor with her cell phone pressed to her ear. She had moved to the break-room down the corridor, away from the officers and was talking in a loud whisper.

“I’ve got no bloody idea, it’s preposterous!” She hissed. “She has been here all night and it doesn’t look like she intends on leaving anytime soon, meanwhile who is stuck here running around like a blue arsed fly? Me! That’s who! God, it will be just my luck to catch MRSA or something equally as nasty!”

  
“Has she lost her mind?” Nigel bemused. “What on earth is she doing with that sorry excuse for a girl?”

  
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of stilettos as they echoed distinctively from the adjacent corridor. “Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck, fuck!”

  
Nigel rolled his eyes. “How articulate Red!”

  
“Shit she’s coming, gotta go Nigel” With that Emily end the call.

  
Miranda saw Emily frozen ridged as she turned the corner. “Well?” She asked impatiently.

 

Emily visibly shook her head as if willing herself out a fear-induced trance, stuttering as she found her grounding again. “I, I, I, I have located the parents. They are in Marbella. But they have gone on some excursion thing, so I have left instructions with their hotel for them to call me as soon as they return. ‘Proteggere’ have sent the two bodyguards as requested and they are waiting with the hospital security downstairs when you are ready. Nigel has confirmed that all plans for the party tonight are on schedule. Everything is running smoothly with no problems at the office, oh and here is the item you requested.” Emily reached into her pocket and held out an item to Miranda.

  
Miranda pursed her lips as she accepted the card pack wrapped in cellophane, which carried the hospital logo. “Very well, Emily you may leave now.” Emily’s was shocked at the sudden dismissal. “However…” Miranda continued, “this is on the condition that you are accompanied by a personal guard at all times. He is not to leave your side until I instruct otherwise. Do you understand?”

  
“Bu…” Emily was having problems forming complete words, never mind sentences. “But…but don’t you need me here?”

  
“I am perfectly capable of using a telephone Emily.”

  
“Of course I’m sorry Miranda” The English-rose beamed crimson red.

  
They began a slow walk back towards Andrea’s room as Miranda continued talking.

 

“Advise ‘Proteggere’ that we would like to keep the other guard on retainer, email his contact details to my BlackBerry® and I will expect him to be here waiting, if and when required.” She held up a finger. “Wait here one moment.” She instructed as they stood outside of Andrea’s room. The silver haired effigy breezed past into the room and reappeared seconds later with _The Book_ in her hand. “You may attend the ball this evening after you have returned _The Book,_ and I expect something palatable for my dinner, something that doesn’t belong at a vegan convention, unlike that muck you brought me at lunch. That’s all.” 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Miranda was unrelenting at cards, she clearly didn’t believe in just letting people win, even if they were lying in a hospital bed. The younger woman had been receiving a serious ass-kicking for a good couple of hours, but as long as she could blame her losing streak on the medication, she knew the damage to her pride would stay minimal.

  
“What day is it?” Andy quizzed absently, as she studied her cards before discarding the queen of spades on the deck face up.

  
“Saturday.” Miranda answered before fanning out another winning hand out over the bed tray. “Gin.” She smirked

  
Andy shook her head, again. ‘ _How the hell was she doing this? Did she have cards hidden up her sleeves?_ “No, I mean what’s the date? Is it New Year’s eve? I wasn’t unconscious for like a week was I?”   
“Yes, it is December 31st.” Miranda answered, not quite sure where she was going with this.

  
“Miranda?” Andy questioned. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it the infamous New Year’s ball tonight?”

 

Miranda performed a particularly dramatic eye roll and ran her hand through her hair.  “Well Andrea, it’s my new found addiction to vending machine coffee, we simply cannot be parted. Especially now that Emily has given me a bag of quarters to keep me topped up for the evening!” Miranda pursed her lips, trying to keep a straight face.

  
Andy countered with an equally effective eye roll. “Miranda Priestly you know exactly what I mean, what are you doing in this crusty hospital room, missing your ball, THE ball of the year?”

  
Miranda picked up the cards and began shuffling. “Do I really need to say it again?” Andy nodded. “Oh very well, I am here because I choose to be.” She huffed in mock irritation and went on to deal another hand. “Are you ready to be defeated again?”

Andy smiled watching Miranda deal the cards. “I had a ticket you know?” Andy said, catching the flash of surprise on Miranda’s face. “A fabulous dress and shoes, oh, they are amazing!  But…” She paused, making sure that she had Miranda’s attention. “To be honest, I’m really not that bothered about missing it now.”

  
“Why is that?” Miranda enquired. She had been allowing herself to imagine what could have happened if they had met again that night and was now very curious about her statement of disinterest.

  
Andy’s heart was beating fast as she thought about what she wanted and needed to say. She searched for every inch of courage she had and continued shyly. “Because, my only reason for going to that ball is here with me now.” She smiled sweetly at Miranda who in turn, gave her the most stunning smile she had ever seen. _‘God she is beautiful.’_ Andy swooned hoping the anaemia would dull the deep shade of red she knew she had turned.

  
Miranda picked up her hand of cards and examined them, but Andy suddenly found that she was once again fighting drowsiness, yet another thing she could blame on the medication. She winced in pain as she attempted to stretch and yawn and caught Miranda wince in sympathy.

  
“Why don’t you rest?” Miranda suggested.  “I have some work to catch up on.” She explained as she put the cards back into their box and reached for recently delivered _Book_. It was time to prepare for the first airstrike of the night.

  
Andy watched Miranda root around in her bag for a suitable pen and relaxed into her pillow. “I’ll rest now, on one condition!” She played. Miranda silently implored her to explain, “That you wake me up before Midnight!”   
“You are incorrigible!” Miranda smiled again, agreeing to the terms. 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Miranda was deep in editorial mode when the shift change brought Nurse May back into the room, she was so focused she hadn’t heard the door click.

  
“Good Evening Ms. Priestly” the nurse spoke in hushed tones. Miranda returned the pleasantries as the nurse picked up the chart.

“How has the patient been today?” The nurse spoke to the paper as she and studied the day’s notations. “Hmmm, good. There’s been a considerable improvement on her stats.” She looked over at Miranda. “She certainly is a fighter.”

  
Miranda stood from the chair and spoke with hushed tones so as not to disturb the sleeping woman. “She couldn’t keep anything down today, should we be concerned?”

  
“Not overly, it’s quite common after surgery especially after the blood loss she’s experienced, I think we’ll try again shortly, but as long as she remains hydrated.” She pointed at the drip running into Andy’s arm. “Then she will be in the fine short term.”

“What progress should we expect to make in the next twenty four hours?” Miranda asked solemnly.

Andy stirred and peaked out of the corner of her eye “I can hear you talking about me. Nurse May, is she giving you the Spanish inquisition?”

  
“Andrea?” Miranda cut in. “I don’t make a habit of residing in hospital wards with trauma victims, I do not want to be blindsided. Quite frankly I’ve had enough unpleasant surprises to last me a lifetime.”

Andy bit her lip nervously after her scolding and looked down at the cover on the bed.

“Andrea?” Miranda called her name gently and Andy looked up into Miranda’s eyes. Upon seeing the playful smirk Andy quickly forgot her penitential thoughts and grinned widely.

  
Nurse May interrupted the stare-down by clearing her throat and answering Miranda’s question. “My next steps will be to get our patient to eat something. Then when the Doctor feels we are ready we’ll take the Foley out and get her up for a little walk. Once we get that out of the way, it should be pretty-smooth sailing. Best-case scenario is that we have you out of here in a few days. Worst case, it will be a couple of weeks. So, how about some chicken broth?” 

  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
With operation chicken broth successfully completed, Andy felt quite pleased with herself and she had convinced Miranda to change the card game. Her first suggestion of ‘Snap’ was rebutted with a particularly vicious eye roll but ‘Jacks, Two’s and Eight’s’ had been accepted without any drama.

  
The two women sat contently, matching wits in a comfortable silence with just the rhythm of the pulse oximeter beeping around them. They hadn’t even considered the time until the silence was interrupted by muffled cheers and whoops bouncing around the hospital.

  
The flashes illuminated the dimmed light and beautiful colours streamed into the room. They could feel the noise from the explosions vibrating on the furniture and through their bodies. Miranda stood and opened the blinds at the window so that Andrea could get a better view of the display from Time Square flying above the skyline. As Miranda turned around she could see that Andrea was not paying any attention to the Fireworks, she was watching her. As she stared back she caught each flash in the sky as it lit Andrea’s beautiful face, leaving a flutter in her heart.  

  
Andy held out her hand appealing for her to come closer.

Miranda approached tentatively and placed her soft hand over Andrea’s palm, gently linked their fingers intimately.

  
“Happy new year, Andrea” Miranda spoke as she leaned down to kiss her forehead. Just as she leaned in Andy moved to look up. The move left them nose to nose, centimetres apart. Andy could feel Miranda’s sweet breath against her lips. They looked into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity then Miranda closed the distance allowing their lips to brush together in a soft and tender kiss.

 

“Happy New Year, Miranda.” Andy whispered.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

Miranda pulled back slowly from the kiss and ran her fingers through her silver locks. She walked to the window turning her back on the bed looking out at the fireworks, which were still lighting up the night sky.

  
“What are you thinking?”  Andy spoke gently; her heart was racing from the unexpected kiss. Miranda remained silent, continuing to stare out of the window. “Miranda? Talk to me please!” 

Miranda’s breath hitched as she spoke, “I’m thinking that I’m scared.” 

“Oh.” Andy was about to reassure her. Reassure her of what she had no idea, but she was about to try when Miranda spoke again. 

“I’m scared of how I’m feeling, I’m scared of what I just did, of what this means. Most of all I’m scared of losing this, of losing you again.”

“Miranda?”

“Please.” Miranda turned around to face her, leaning against the wall and window. “I need to say this... I know why you had to go, I understand why you left, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less.” Miranda closed her eyes and rubbed her brow letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been any good at this.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Andy cut in. “You did nothing wrong. I had to leave.”

“Why?” Miranda begged.

“Because, I didn’t recognise myself anymore, and I didn’t like the person I was becoming. I know it's no excuse. What I did; that was unforgivable! But you need to believe me when I tell you that leaving you was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I hurt you, I hurt myself. My whole world was you, every waking second and even now nothing can fill that void.”

Miranda shook here head. “I paid you to be at my beck and call.” 

“No Miranda.” Andy shook her head and tried again to make her understand. “It was more than that. I was devoted to you, not the job.”

“I saw so much promise in you, I was ready to invest in your future, to help you go all the way.”

Andy could hear the disappointment in Miranda voice. “You did help me!” She reasoned. “You could have destroyed me when I left, don’t think I don’t know that. Instead you helped me get this job, let me walk my own path.” Andy had played this conversation in her mind so many times; still she couldn’t help the tone of desperation. “I’m scared too. I’m scared about what happened last night, petrified that I will never be able to close my again eyes without seeing it over and over in my head. I’m scared that I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder, but most of all I’m terrified that all this is just a dream and when I wake up you will be gone.” 

Then Miranda sighed loudly and shook her in frustration. “Everyone is entitled to have moments of stupidity, but really Andrea you abuse the privilege.”

  
“Hey! Andy feeling slightly insulted. She let the feeling pass, knowing that it was Miranda’s way telling that she wasn’t going anywhere. She reached out her hand again, silently pleading with Miranda to move closer. “What do we do now?” She asked.

  
Miranda took Andy’s hand covering it will both of hers. “We concentrate on getting you better and out of this hospital. Right now I am going to attempt to get some sleep in that monstrosity.” She pointed to the chair at the side of the bed. “And I suggest you do the same. You have some hills to climb tomorrow.”

  
For the second time that night Miranda leaned down over Andy, this time accurate in her intended aim. Their lips touched, the kiss was full of emotion and relief, speaking the words that neither were ready to say yet.

  
“Sleep!” Ordered Miranda as she gathered her bag and slipped into the adjoining bathroom. 

  
Andy slept peacefully through the night, not waking during any of the checks. Only stirring as the sunlight began to pour across her face from the open blinds. She opened her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the brightness. Then she caught the beautiful sight of the woman curled up in the chair still sleeping. The blanket was pulled tightly around her body and her legs were tucked beneath her. Her face was natural and free of make-up. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. Andy couldn’t take her eyes off her. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was mid morning when Doctor. Miller entered the room, sipping from a juice box. “Good Morning Ladies, Happy New Year.”

  
Miranda acknowledged the woman, pursing in her lips in disgust at the threadbare sneakers and ill fitting, baggy scrubs that the Doctor was wearing, they did not do her figure any justice.  

  
Doctor Miller studied the chart and began taking Andy’s vitals. She observed the two women as she worked. They were an unusual pairing, yet both were clearly comfortable in each other’s company. The hours and commitment required in her profession meant that Doctor Miller didn’t get out much nor did she have any time to invest in popular culture. She didn’t know who Miranda was and she didn’t necessarily care, all that mattered was that her patient was happy.

  
She turned to Andy and smiled. “Ok, I think its time to remove the Foley, and then I think we can get you out of the bed for a bit.”

  
Miranda waited for the nurse to arrive and left Andrea alone with the medical staff and what was remaining of her dignity. 

  
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Emily had sent Miranda an updated itinery. Miranda heaved a heavy sigh; she knew she had to mentally prepare herself for the inevitable. She was falling behind on this month’s deadline and would need to leave the hospital soon.   
“Hello Miranda” Emily answered picking up the call on the first ring. 

  
“Emily, call the agency and arrange for them to secure the townhouse. I will expect to be picked up at eight. Call my ex-husband, I would like him to keep the girls out of the city until I instruct otherwise. You may explain the situation. I do not want him to take any unnecessary risks, just to feed his immaturity and the incessant need he has to annoy me.”

 

“Of course Miranda, would you like me to accompany you?” Emily offered.

  
“That will not be necessary.”

  
“Oh I almost forgot.” Emily added before Miranda hung up. “A package from the D.A’s office arrived by messenger a couple of minutes ago, would you like me to bring it to you?”

  
“No, arrange for it to be placed in my safety deposit box. That’s all.” Miranda ended the call and walked back the room deep in thought. She had what she needed, secure. All she could do now was wait and hope that Beatrice Sharpe was as good as they all thought she was. 

  
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good News!” An excited Andrea hollered as Miranda entered the room. She was standing—more like leaning— against the bed with the IV stand at one side and a nurse on the other; poised to catch her if needed. The young woman was breathing like she had just run up a flight of stairs, when in reality she had just walked around the room.

  
“ Love the gown” Miranda stated dryly, looking up and down at ill-fitting hospital attire which tied at the neck and gaped open down her back.

  
“Oh you think this is sexy.” Andy bantered. “You should check out my paper panties, I hear they are this season’s hottest thing.”  

  
Miranda chuckled. “What is the news that you seem so desperate to announce to the entire floor?”

  
“Doctor Miller thinks I’ll be able to go home tomorrow.” Andy beamed with joy but her face slowly dropped as she listened to Miranda’s reaction.

  
“Already? What kind of hospital is this? You have just had major surgery.” Andy realised that Miranda was just showing her concern but she wished that she had been a little more excited.   
“Miranda, I’m young, strong and healthy. I’m fine!” She explained.

  
Doctor Miller interrupted to continue her assessment. “The arm will need to be supported in a sling and the dressing will require changing every eight hours, plus daily physio-therapy. Your dexterity will be limited and no doubt frustrating, do you have anyone to take care of you or shall I start the paperwork to request a carer?”

  
“There will be no need; she will be staying with me.” Miranda stated.

Andy had to stop her jaw from dropping at Miranda’s response. “Miranda, I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” The Nurse helped a physically drained Andy back into bed as Miranda addressed medical staff.

“Would you please leave us?” She asked politely. She did not wish her personal business to be the talk of the hospital. As soon as the door closed she spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous” This was non-negotiable. “I have hired extra security. I will not put our lives in the hands of the New York City police department, the very same people who put you here. You will stay at the townhouse with me where I can keep an eye on you and stop you getting into anymore trouble.”

  
“What about the girls?” Andrea questioned.

  
“They are out of town with their Father and they will remain there until I decide otherwise.”

  
“I’m sorry.” Andy felt the tears brim and she fought to hold them back. “I wish that it could be different. I’ve put you in danger, I’m so sorry.”

  
“Nonsense, I put myself in danger and I would do it again if I was given the choice.” The tears rolled down Andy’s pale cheeks. Miranda quickly moved closer and placed a kiss on her temple and tenderly ran her fingers through Andrea’s hair. “It’s all going to be ok.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

Desk phones were ringing off the hook; multiple conversations merged into one unintelligible wave as Beatrice Sharpe entered the Investigation Division offices. Senior D.As, A.D.As and I.A.B officers doubled up at desks pouring through evidence. The specialized support that had been requested from all available depots in the city had arrived en masse to help them sort the sheer volume and complexity of data obtained.

  
She made it to her office and closed the door; the sound from the main room reduced to a murmur and she was grateful for the escape. She sank into her chair with an audible sigh and raked one hand distractedly through her hair. This case had been exhausting, extraordinarily so and there was no end in sight.

 _‘Come on! Pull yourself together. You didn’t get to where you are today without knowing how to sti_ _ck it to the bad guys.’_ Her internal pep talk was interrupted by a brisk rap at the door. “Come!” Sharpe snapped decisively. The door opened and Captain Moore poked his head in sheepishly; unsure of what mood would be waiting for him behind it.

  
“Hey Bea!” He smiled at her affectionately, placing a steaming hot cup of black coffee down on her desk. They had spent many years of corruption, racketeering and white-collar cases together. The two different sides of the spectrum working for one single goal: justice.  There was an unspoken affection between them, a rapport but, most importantly it was an alliance of solidarity.

  
“Hey Bobby! My Saviour.” She smiled as she reached for the cup.

  
“What’s this doing here?” He asked as he picked up the evidence bag from her desk and fingered the silver tape recorder inside. “I thought it had already been processed and catalogued.”

  
“Something’s just not sitting right with me.” She frowned.

  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have had the hash browns?” He quipped, smirking over the rim of his cup and sinking down into the chair opposite her.

  
“Smart-ass!” She smiled shaking her head. “The Sachs case. I don’t understand why O’Hanlon chose that pitiful rag to expose his story. Why Sachs? There was nothing in her statement that covers that, nothing to answer why they made the attempt on her life and why they didn’t finish it.” She took a big gulp of her coffee, feeling the rush as the hot liquid hit the back of her throat.

“Ballistics shows us, clear as day that it was an internal weapon, a semi-automatic AR15 rifle belonging to our own S.W.A.T team. Officers Corelli, Baum and Riley all have ties to the gun and the armoury during the appropriate time windows. We’ve made seventeen arrests now and unless the guys out there start coming up with results we might have to start releasing some of them.”

  
“How are the questioning and the testimony loads going?” She enquired. “Do you have enough resources?”

  
“It’s slow and painful. These guys know the techniques and protocol inside out. Just takes a little more time with some of them.” He paused and fingered the cardboard on the rim of his cup. You know what gets me?”

She shook her head as she swallowed her drink.

“It’s the fact that for the majority of this case the targets are people who belonged in prison. I mean, the guys may have stepped over the line, but…''

  
“No, Bobby.” She stopped him there. “There are no ifs and no buts. That to me is so utterly corrupt and so disgracefully corrosive to the core. The fact that they thought they had the right to do this is what’s really frightening. Innocent people were hurt. In fact, guilty or innocent, hell, we might as well just burn the constitution if we’re gonna start making exceptions.”

 

Moore stood and nodded. “I’d better get back to it. No rest for the wicked.” The door closed behind him and Sharpe looked down at the tape recorder still on her desk, relieved that she hadn’t actually had to explain why she had it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The city was covered in a beautiful white blanket and Roy was manoeuvring through the treacherous conditions back to the townhouse. An impeccably dressed bodyguard sat upfront in the passenger seat, he had tediously introduced himself as Spencer—Miranda was unsure if that was his first name or surname, and quite frankly she didn’t care. The car stopped at the curb-side and the guard jumped out to open her door.

  
The air was bitter enough to take her breath away. She was pleased that the pavement and steps had been cleared as her shoes were quite unsuitable for ice. Miranda was not surprised to find the townhouse lit up and pleasantly warm. The house keeper, Juliana had been dismissed for the holidays and she wasn’t expecting her to return for another couple of days but, Emily had planned ahead.

  
Miranda turned to the young man who was waiting patiently in the hallway for instructions. She had used the same agency on more than one occasion; this was an unfortunate requirement of her social position. Each time she had been left impressed by their professional abilities, discretion and the non-imposing nature of each man. Clearly, this attention to detail was as important to their founder as it was to Miranda.

  
“Make yourself comfortable.” Miranda instructed. “There is food in the refrigerator; you may use the bathroom down the hall if required. I’d suggest you use the front lounge to work from and set up what you need. The house has wireless connectivity so please contact my assistant if you require the access code. What are your sleeping requirements?”

  
“I'll change shift with a colleague, at twenty hundred hours and return at zero five hundred hours, Ma’am. This room will be fine, thank you.”

  
“Please call me, Miranda.” She requested and he nodded. “I trust that all disruptions will be kept to a minimum.” Spencer assured her that this was the case and informed her of their standard protocols. With that, Miranda turned and ascended the stairs. She had a much-needed call to make to her girls.

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening played out slowly for Miranda. She refilled the empty tumbler on the desk, watching the bottle gradually deplete, all in a vain effort to numb the dull ache in her heart. Leaving the hospital had been harder than she thought it would be.

Thoughts were rushing around in her mind. Hers was a life full of regrets and emotional debts. She had hurt herself and those around her time and time again with no one to blame but herself. It had taken a little time to put it into perspective; the demons in her head were at war. But now she knew, she was positive: Andrea was her second chance.

Waking with a start, Miranda lifted her head, the sunlight poured through the cracks in the curtains where they had been haphazardly drawn together. She had fallen asleep in her study. She was still dressed in the previous day’s clothes and an empty whisky bottle and glass sat on the desk. She winced at the stiffness in her body as she stood, another night in another chair was not doing her back any good.  

Despite the physical discomfort, lack of sleep and the taste of an aged distillery hanging in her mouth there was an ebullience filling her mind. Andrea was coming home today. In the meantime, she had a corporate machine to whip back into shape. Three days incommunicado meant that she would no doubt walk back into some untold horrors.

She would enjoy the first ritual sacrifice of the year. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exiting the Town Car, Miranda walked to the entrance of the Elias Clarke building, Spencer the body guard shadowed her every move. The crowd in the lobby parted like the Red Sea as she breezed through, all eyes averting in fear of making eye contact with Medusa herself.

They reached her preferred elevator and she smiled to herself as she heard a voice in the lobby gasp in shock as the suited man joined her in the carriage.

On the eleventh floor, a desk phone rang out to sound the pre-warning of her arrival.

Nigel burst from his office to strike the flare. “She’s in the building people! The first man gets the oyster; the second man gets the shell. Look alive!” The employees scrambled into place as the elevator doors pinged open.

  
Morning greetings were thrown at Miranda as her Prada pumps echoed down the hallway. As usual she chose to ignore each one until Emily rushed towards her. “Good Morning Miranda.”

  
“Yes.” Miranda responded as she threw her bag and coat on the empty desk of the second assistant. She caught a glimpse of the second bodyguard standing behind Emily’s desk as she entered her office. Miranda sighed in disappointment and leaned her head back through the door. “Emily, is there some reason my coffee isn’t here? Has she died or something?”

Emily fumbled for words just as the sound of clacking heels could be heard in treble time coming down the corridor. All the heads in the room turned to look down the hall to see a crazed Carrie literally sprinting down the home stretch. She skidded to a halt just inside the inner office and placed one of the five cups down on the desk, struggling to catch her breath.

Emily shot the young girl a scornful, ‘I HATE YOU!’ look and flared her nostrils.

  
“I’m sorry Miranda, I…” Carrie began trying to smooth the situation over.

  
“Please bore somebody else with your excuses.” Miranda interrupted and dismissed the girl with, “That’s all.”

  
As Miranda took her seat, she found the daily schedule laid out on the desk before her. She had an hour u

ntil her morning run-through; normally she would have taken great pleasure in moving it forward and making them all sweat but there was something more important to do first today.

  
“Emily…” Miranda called, barely above her normal speaking voice. Another ability that Emily had developed during her employment was bat-like hearing. “Close my door.” Miranda instructed. “That’s all.”

 

Miranda picked up her phone and found the number for the hospital. Miranda had suggested couriering over a cell phone, but Andy had insisted it was not necessary. Instead, Andrea had programmed into her phone the previous evening, as a reassurance that she was only a phone call away.

The Editor dialled the number and after what seemed like forever, the line was answered and she was placed on hold as they transferred her to Andrea’s room.  

  
“Good morning, Miranda.” Andy greeted as she picked up the call from her bed.

Miranda could literally hear Andrea’s smile as she spoke and couldn’t help the one that spread across her own face.

“How did you sleep?” Andy enquired.

Miranda stretched her arm up and rubbed the muscles in her neck. “Terribly. And you?”

  
“Not so great.” Andy paused, wondering whether to continue. _‘Surely Miranda wouldn’t be interested in hearing it.’_  She thought. _‘But wait. **She** called **me**?’ __She reassessed and continued_ _._ “I had some bad dreams. I had to sleep with the light on…and I missed you.”

  
“They are just dreams Andrea, they can’t hurt you. And…” Miranda paused not quite sure whether she could say it…yet.  ‘ _Fortune_ _favors_ _the brave, Miranda.’_ She decided. “…I missed you too.” She heard Andrea breathe out a sigh of relief and filled the silence.

“What time will you be released? I have an impossible schedule, but I could rearrange a few meetings to be there by five-thirty if that is suitable.”

  
“You’re going to pick me up? Personally?”

  
“Really Andrea, do try to keep up! What part of personal security and staying at the townhouse did you not understand? Have they messed with your drugs today?” Miranda teased. “I’m sure that I do not need to remind you that I cannot abide tardiness.”

  
Andy didn’t even attempt a retort. She was still buzzing from the thought of seeing Miranda again so soon. “I’ll be ready to leave when you when you get here.” She stated.

  
Ending the call, Miranda stood from her desk and opened the door to the outer office. “Emily.” She called.

The redhead stood to attention and darted into Miranda’s office, with a pen and pad at the ready.

“Rearrange all appointments after five, move Tommy to lunch and the shoot review to later in the week. Tell Stella that I do not have time to meet her today, it will need to wait until Fashion Week; add that to the London schedule. I’d like you to inform the officer in charge of Andrea’s case, Captain-something that Andrea will be residing at the town house indefinitely. If he wishes for his officers to continue their so-called protection, they will have to do so from a discreet angle. I will not have my neighbors disturbed. Also, arrange for a suitably comfortable ensemble for Andrea, to be sent by messenger to North General immediately and a complete wardrobe, to be delivered at the townhouse, by this evening. I will require an additional guard to stay at the house during the daytime and contact a reputable agency to request a home nurse during my office hours. Both starting tomorrow; seven sharp, until further notice. That’s all.”   
          
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Andy had never known boredom like it. She was mindlessly flicking through the television channels. Who knew that with over one hundred channels it would be possible to have nothing to watch? She settled for an Oprah re-run and soon found herself sobbing to some heartbreaking story involving a dog shelter. The drugs were playing havoc with her emotions.

  
Several hours later—and not a moment too soon—the nurse began to prepare her for discharge. There was a full lecture, concluding in a physical exam by the Doctor. By five-twenty, Andy was dressed and sitting on her bed, impatiently watching the clock on the wall. She was armed with an arsenal of medical supplies: drugs, dressings, gauze, antiseptics and convinced that she could open her own pharmacy if she wanted. She heard the heels first, echoing down the hallway in an instantly recognizable stride. She looked back at the clock to be sure and then smiled. Miranda’s scent filled the room and Andy’s senses as she entered. “You’re late,” Andy teased, knowing that Miranda’s internal clock was set ten minutes earlier than every other person in the city.

Miranda harrumphed her response. “Do take your time, Andrea; you know how it thrills me.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roy greeted Andy with a gentle hug as he came to open the door for the two of them. “It’s good to see you in one piece, Andy.” He smiled fondly at her. Miranda, who was not known for her public displays of affection made her annoyance known with an eye roll.

  
The journey was completed in silence with the two men riding up front. Andy had needed some help manoeuvring out of the car and up the steps, but Roy had been happy to assist. Once inside, Spencer moved to his station in the lounge.

Andy suggested a tour of the house before Miranda showed her to the guest room. Determining that it was the best way to break the ice between them, in the new surroundings.

  
Andy’s room was on the first floor and she found herself was quite out of breath as they reached the top of the first flight. Miranda made sure to walk behind her, wary of her unsteadiness and she pointed out the rooms as they passed.

  
“On the left is the main study; you may use it at anytime. The first guestroom is opposite.” They carried on down the hall and Andy was still trying to get her breath back. “This is my room and opposite is the second guest room, which will be yours.” She opened the door to reveal a huge room, which was bigger than Andy’s first apartment, equipped with a king-sized bed and beautiful classic furnishings.

Andy noticed that there were several packages on the floor beside the bed and Miranda explained when she saw Andrea’s puzzled expression. “I took the liberty of arranging some clothes and comforts during your stay. I’d rather you didn’t go back to your apartment until we…until you are ready.” Andy nodded. “You have an en-suite. However, I’m sure that you agree that now is not the time to demonstrate that independent streak, that you seem so determined to flash around. The nurse will be here while I’m in the office. Do not hesitate to ask for help. Am I making myself clear?”

  
“Perfectly.” Andy nodded, enjoying the tour and seeing the bossy side of Miranda again. “What’s upstairs?” She asked.

  
“The girl’s bedrooms. Plus, another smaller study, there is a second bathroom and the entertainment room.”

  
“Oh no.” Andy groaned in mock disappointment. “Does that mean I have to hike up another flight of stairs to watch more mind-numbing daytime television?”

  
“On the contrary, there is a full entertainment system in the den downstairs. Or if you’d prefer to exercise your brain cells rather than systematically destroy them, we have a library too.”   
“Miranda?” Andy asked, touching Miranda’s arm gently.

  
“Yes?” She answered.

  
“I don’t think I can find the words to explain how much this means to me.” She said vulnerably. “You were there when I needed a friend. Through one of the darkest times of my life—and you’re still here. I felt like I had lost myself.” She felt the tears brim in her eyes and she lifted her arm to wipe them away. “Maybe I don’t need you to save me, maybe I do? All I know is that I never want to feel the way I did that day again. I owe so much to you.” She looked down at her feet, lacking the courage to look her in the eye. Then she felt Miranda take her hand.

  
“Come on, let’s make some dinner.” Miranda encouraged.

Andy smiled again, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall again.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next three days flew by. Miranda left the house at the crack of dawn each morning with a full security detail in tow, returning home, by some miracle of Emily’s scheduling, to share dinner with Andrea.

Andy took advantage of the quiet time to catch up on over two years worth of missed sleep. She quickly developed an unhealthy attachment to daytime soaps and, to her surprise, had found a stash of ice-cream in the freezer--a pleasant insight into the secret life of La’ Priestly. In addition, the 100% Miranda attention she was receiving each evening, Andy could help but feel that life was pretty awesome right now. Well, as long as she didn’t think about the gaping hole in her shoulder, the death warrant on her head and her career, which had been torn into pieces and scattered to the wind.

  
It had been a full week since the offending incident that had brought them crashing headlong together. They’d overcome the uncomfortable ‘Paris’ discussion, but the past few days had been spent skirting around deep conversations. Instead, they engaged in meaningless small talk, both choosing to forget the outside world. Andy hadn’t asked about _Runway_ or about Miranda’s life since she’d left. Miranda hadn’t probed any more about the shooting, about her career or about her apparent solitude. Both knew that it was only a matter of time before the moratorium was lifted

The two women had been peacefully working in the study for over an hour. Miranda was seated behind her desk deep in concentration, attacking the pages of _The Book_ with a bright red pen and Andy was sat on the sofa with her legs neatly tucked beneath her, absently tapping away on a laptop. She was trying to piece together the draft of her story, but was finding it difficult to take the spliced events in her brain and put them into coherent paragraphs.

“Slamming the lid shut on the laptop, she stood up and paced the carpet. Frustration emanated from every pore as she moved. “Oh this is ridiculous! I sound like a rotting hack!” She spat.

“Andrea, petulance does not suit you.” Miranda stated as she looked over the top of her reading glasses to watch the young woman pacing the floor.

“I’m not petulant, I’m defeated.” Andy retorted, running her hand through her hair in vexation.

Miranda put down her pen and clasped her hands together, giving Andrea her full attention. “What are you working on?”

“The Story.” She paused momentarily to define her objective. “I want to capture the sequence of events, but I can’t seem to narrate and illustrate the scene. It’s like I can see it in my head, but I can’t seem to form the words.” Her pacing had led her subconsciously around the large wooden desk and to Miranda’s side. She leaned against the edge as she continued. “If only I had the tape, I know it would all come clear. I feel like I’ve lost the passion, the reality of it all.”

“You should be focusing on getting well. Re-living that evening is the last thing that you need right now. I understand your need to work and keep yourself occupied, but I don’t think that this is the healthiest avenue Andrea.” Miranda had not yet disclosed the true depth of her intervention. She had not shared any details of her conversations with the Editor of _The Post_ or the District Attorney. Deep down she knew her actions had been steered by her need to subjugate but she also had an uncontrollable urge to screen and protect the woman who had penetrated her own defences so easily. 

“Maybe you’re right. I just hate this feeling of helplessness. I want my work to mean something! I want it to make a difference. I don’t want all this bloodshed to be for nothing.” Andy looked down at her feet as she felt the tears brimming again.

Miranda reached over and placed a warm hand on Andy’s thigh. “You are young and talented. I have said this before, and you know how I loathe repetition. However, I see a great deal of myself in you. You can see beyond want and need, you can choose for yourself. I predict great things in your future. But, sometimes Andrea we need to realise when something is out of our control and when it is time to accept help. Do you understand?”

Andy looked intently into her eyes and nodded. “Yes.” She whispered.

Rising from her chair, Miranda lifted her hand to gently cup Andy’s chin. Her thumb brushed across a smooth cheek. She moved to close the distance between their bodies, wrapping her arms carefully around the young woman, mindful of her shoulder and the position of the sling.  Andy nestled her face into Miranda’s neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent and immediately relaxing into the embrace.

*

The Sachs family consists of two happily married parents with two strong and independent daughters. Andy’s parents were always openly affectionate around their children, and she had therefore inherited the ‘cuddle gene.’

Miranda was the youngest of eight children. Their upbringings could not have been more different. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, although an honest man, was unskilled and lazy, choosing to spend his day in prayer in the local synagogue rather than face the reality of his miserable life. The rivalry between the eight siblings was constant and vicious; only the strongest would survive. At her earliest opportunity, Miranda chose to flee the squalor of East End London and start her journey and meteoric rise in the world of fashion. She had learned very quickly in life that the only person she could rely on was herself. She never allowed herself to be truly intimate, fearing that if she let the walls down, she would only leave herself open to pain. Her children had been the only exception. Their love was unconditional, but she knew that one day even they would leave her.

  
So how did it come to pass that after fifty years of emotional isolation she could so freely open her arms to this woman and feel like she had come home?

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hot breath close to her ear sent an unexpected rush of arousal through Miranda’s body. Andy pulled back slowly from Miranda’s arms to look into the ocean of blue. Moving forward hesitantly, Miranda closed the distance. The result was a soft, heavenly kiss.

Andy closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart; it was deafening. She had been longing and dreaming for more since the first kiss. She had never been more physically and mentally attracted to someone in her life.

The kiss started as gentle and tender and Miranda parted her lips, allowing her tongue to glide over Andrea’s bottom lip. She linked fingers gently with Andrea’s hand and ran the fingers of her free hand through her beautiful brown locks.

Andrea opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, tongues moving together to dance the perfect tango.

Miranda had never been sexually intimate with a woman. That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t thought about it. There had been opportunities throughout her adult life, but during the early days of her career they had never been worth the professional risk and somewhere along the line her trust issues always won the battle. But this was Andrea. In some undefined way, Andrea had captured her unspoken passion, consumed her, removed capacity to walk away. She never wanted this feeling to end.

But, even with that heavenly feeling the demons were winning the battle; they always did. She knew that if they took the next step, there was no going back. Miranda pulled back gently, staring into Andy’s dark fathomless eyes.

“Are you ok?” Andy asked, searching Miranda’s face for the answer.

Bringing both hands up to cup Andrea’s face, she placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Everything is lovely.” She knew it would be…eventually.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

All traces of the day had been wiped away and her exquisite skin was now exposed. Miranda stared at her reflection in the mirror. The reflection stared back.

  
She had walked a certain path all her life. She thought she knew that path like the back of her hand. In fear of getting hurt again, she had long ago built up a truly impenetrable set of walls. She looked deep into her own eyes, pleading with herself. _‘For every piece of me that wants you, another piece backs away. It’s my nature, I want to run and hide.’_

  
Every decision and action in her life was thought through, all risks and consequences were considered, everything was done for a reason—until now. From the moment she had walked into that hospital room, she hadn’t allowed herself to think. She hadn’t actually considered what it would mean for them to be together. It was a momentary loss of control. She had been taken over by an exhilarating feeling, a feeling that rushed through her body every time she was near Andrea.

  
She had spent all this time longing, full of loneliness and regret; now more than ever she was sure that this was what she wanted. So what was the problem? Well, for one thing, she was no longer young and free; those days were long gone. She had a busy, demanding life, an empire to run, the brand and reputation to maintain and two headstrong teenage daughters to raise. 

  
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Loosening his collar and leaning back on his chair Moore, balled his hand into a fist and slammed it with force on to the desk. The noise startled his interview partner, but the suspect stayed steely-eyed. Moore, knew it was only a matter of time before he broke the man, the cracks were slowly beginning to show.

  
“I will ask you one more time, Officer Baum. Where did it come from?” Captain Moore snarled at the man. “Steady deposits each month. Did you think we wouldn’t find it in her account? Either you tell me, or we’ll bring her in.”

 

He leafed pointedly through a thick pile of papers. With one sudden movement, he lifted several sheets, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them at the officer. “Aiding and abetting? Obstruction of justice? That’s at least five years’ hard time. I’m sure if I thought about it, I could come up with plenty of other charges to add on to this.” He snorted in disgust.  “Boy! That will be tough on the kids.”

  
“Enough!” Baum spat, his indignation clear in his tone. “You son of a bitch! Leave Jennifer out of this. She knows nothing…”

  
“Yeah? How about you tell me what I want to hear. We have some careless clerks in admin, who knows; maybe these papers could go missing.” 

  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
Andy’d had another restless night. The drugs helped with the pain, but the uncomfortable ache was constant. It had been over a week and—unsurprisingly—not being able to sleep on her stomach was a hard habit to break.

  
The plaguing images of the cop on the night, the night that everything in her life changed, interwove with thoughts of Miranda. Her conscious mind was like spaghetti junction.

  
Laying on the heavenly mattress and the ridiculously soft sheets, she thought again about her life before that night. How lonely she had been, how she had tried a thousand times a day to call Miranda and beg for forgiveness. On several occasions the overwhelming sadness had actually led her to dial the number she had committed to memory. But every time she even heard the ring tone she would be gripped by fear, and she would lose her nerve. On these occasions she was thankful that the calling line ID was blocked from _The Post’s_ phone system.

  
The fact was that Andy Sachs was in love with Miranda Priestly; she always had been. She had been given a second chance to show her how much and as she laid there alone in the dark, she promised herself that would not fail this time. 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
With London fashion week approaching at lighting speed, Emily was clocking some serious hours at the office. This was her year. This was the year Miranda would finally see her potential and reward it accordingly.

  
Harold watched the under-nourished redhead as she exited a cab on Madison Avenue. She teetered across the pavement towards his newspaper stand, wary of the ice in the sub zero temperatures.

  
Lifting the pre-bundled stack of papers and glossy magazines, he greeted his frosty morning regular. “Good morning to ya, Miss. Emily! Early start today?”

  
Emily raised the eyebrow of contempt and released a deep sigh. Tossing twenty dollars at the grubby vendor, she readjusted the oversized Radley bag, which balanced precariously on her shoulder and gripped the huge bundle to her chest. With that, she turned on her heel and headed to the Elias Clarke entrance.

  
The corridor lights buzzed into life as she exited the elevator. It was rare to see the Runway halls so desolate, but it was now becoming the daily routine for Emily. She looked at her watch again. The small hand and the big hand were both on the number five, reaffirming that yes; she truly had lost her mind.

  
Despite the tiredness, the usual daily routine instinctively kicked in as she entered the inner sanctum of the _Runway_ office. Cutting the binding that held the bundle so neatly together, she fanned them out at the corner of Miranda’s desk. She was just about to walk away when something caught her eye. It was a small paragraph in the corner of a newspaper sheet jumped out at her. A double-take was all she needed to confirm that her day was just about to get a lot worse. 

  
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Moore skulked through the investigation room, a brief escape from the tiny room that had become his very own cell over the last week. The morning light streamed through the blinds, forcing him to shield his eyes. Opening the door without knocking, he entered District Attorney Sharpe’s office, all etiquette forgotten at this stage in the case.

  
“Another beautiful day on the ‘thunder run.’” His tone was dripping with pessimism. Sharpe looked up from a forest of paperwork as he placed a fresh cup of coffee on her desk and smiled warmly at his dog-tired face.   
“Morning, Bobby. Have you been here all night?”

  
“Did you expect anything less?”

  
“Never.” She smiled again.

  
“Not enough hours in the day! How are the witness testimonies going?”

“We are swimming in evidence here, which is a bonus. But, I’m appalled we didn’t act sooner. You know, sometimes I lie awake at night questioning why I do this, why do I put myself through it.” She sighed, raking a hand through her short black hair. “I spent last night talking to Maria Rodriguez; she identified Riley, O’Hanlon, Corelli and Baum in a line up.”

  
“The Diablo gang informant? Is she credible?” Moore pulled out the chair closest to him and took a seat.

  
“Her record is littered with narc and vice priors, but I can spin that.”

  
“What’s the allegation?”

  
“Just over a week ago, she claims that she was detained without cause in the street. We have two further witnesses who confirmed that Riley jammed a gun in her face and then his partner, Corelli, handcuffed her and threw her against a wall. When the other two officers arrived, she was taken back to her apartment, where the officers insisted that she and her boyfriend, the recently deceased Carlos Mendez, hand over drugs and provide the names of their dealers. Mendez told the officers where to find $3000 in cash hidden behind a heater which, mysteriously, is not in the crime scene evidence. Rodriguez claims that Riley then shot and killed an unarmed Mendez as he tried to flee the scene. The ballistics and blood-splatter evidence support the claim. However, the report has massive holes. It’s complete fabrication in part. What were these guys playing at?”

  
“I wish my birds were singing as loud as yours.” Moore shook his head in disbelief.

  
“No matter how strong the evidence is a confession will make things much worse for them. Get me a confession and the chances of an acquittal are virtually nil.” She pushed.

  
“Easier said than done! These guys know every trick in the book.”

  
“They’ll break; it’s what you’re good at Bobby.” Sharpe reached out, placing her hand over his, gently reaffirming her confidence in him. She took another deep breath, a method she used to slow the thoughts in her head. “I think I’m going to need to speak with Sachs again. I really wanted to avoid this but I don’t feel like I have all the pieces of the jigsaw yet.”

  
“What do you mean?” He quizzed.

  
“I just don’t feel we have the full story. You know I don’t like leaving stones unturned.” She looked into his eyes. “How well do you know Miranda Priestly?”

  
“Until our meeting at the hospital, it was by reputation only, but now know she is every bit the bitch that she is painted as in the press”

  
Something inside Sharpe urged her to defend the fashion mogul, to explain to him what it took for a woman to climb that high in a man’s world and maintain it. She might not have always agreed with her tactics and execution, but she knew that whatever Miranda did, she did for a reason. Today, though, right now in this moment, she was so tired she really didn’t have the energy for a debate. Choosing her words carefully, she continued.

  
“I contacted the Editor of _The Post_. His assistant informed me that Ms. Priestly had requested that all of Sachs’ files from the case be sent to her office. Also, how she had also strongly suggested that they refrain from running anything further on the story. Indefinitely.” Sharpe shrugged in bewilderment. “I Googled Sachs. As it turns out, she used to work for Runway as Miranda’s assistant a couple of years ago. There isn’t much detail, but from what I can piece together, there appears to have been some incident, possibly some dissension in the ranks, which forced her to leave rather suddenly. Two years on, Sachs is a cubby reporter barely making enough money to cover her rent…I don’t get it. Why is Miranda involved with this?” She paused to take a large gulp of her coffee and caught the smirk that had appeared on Moore’s face, the jaded lines creasing his eyes. “What?”

  
“You haven’t seen today’s paper, have you?” She looked at him blankly as he pulled the rolled out tabloid from his back pocket. He opened to page six and laid it down on the table.

  
Scanning the page, Sharpe gasped. “Jesus Christ! Do you think this is true?”

  
“Reynolds’ field report states that she arrived at the hospital on the night of the shooting, a couple of hours after the surgery and stayed with her until just before she was discharged. She even brought her assistant to the hospital so she could carry on working. Policy dictates that I can’t leave a key witness unprotected during an active case, so we’ve got a team watching her…at the Priestly townhouse. ”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sharpe cursed. “That doesn’t mean it’s true! You can’t just go making assumptions and wild accusations without proof; you know that as well as I do.” Sharpe chuckled lightly, waving the paper. “She is going to eat them for breakfast for this!”

  
“So why don’t you bring her in for questioning with Sachs?” Moore quizzed returning to her original point.

  
“Have you lost your mind? Would you want to be alone with her in an interview room?” She smirked. “Besides, she wouldn’t budge without a court order, and I don’t think I could push the judge that far.” She looked at her watch and stood up. “Come on. We’ll be late for the morning update.” With that, they both headed to the conference room. 

  
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Emily knew she had run out of time. The PR Company had been put on red alert; Carrie had been threatened with painful death if she didn’t get her bony little ass into the office as soon as possible. All she had to do now was call Miranda. She held her breath as she dialled the number and waited for Miranda to pick up.  

 

*  
The statuesque pose of the fashion goddess seated at the breakfast bar hit Andy as she entered the kitchen. The sun beamed in through the tall windows, outlining Miranda’s body with a halo effect that took Andy’s breath away.

  
The cell phone was pressed to Miranda’s ear and with the genuine sweetness in her tone Andy knew instantly who she was talking to. “Of course you can, Boopsie. I’m looking forward to seeing you. Mommy misses you both terribly…” Miranda heard Andrea’s bare feet on the tiled floor, as she entered the kitchen and smiled as she felt the warm hand on the small of her back.

  
Publicly labelled the Ice Queen by rivals and ex-husbands, Miranda had long since resigned herself to a life without affection and human contact. But the more she got from Andrea, the more she craved it. Andy leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Miranda’s temple, whispering “Good morning” in her phone free ear. Miranda continued to watch Andrea as she moved around the kitchen, feeling pleased at how she had made herself at home.

 

Wrapping up the call with her ebullient offspring, she was finally able to greet Andrea properly. “Good morning.” She said sweetly. “What are you doing up so early?”

  
“It’s after seven, and besides I wanted to make sure I saw you before you left.” Andy flashed a radiant smile that tugged at Miranda’s heart strings.

  
Tearing her eyes away from Andrea’s intense gaze, she looked down to the vibrating item in her hand, alerting her to eleven missed calls from her assistant. Miranda groaned, knowing that a frantic Emily was waiting only a speed dial away.   
“Is something wrong? Andy quizzed.

  
“I think Emily has finally had that breakdown.” Miranda groaned and placed the handset to her ear.

  
Miranda knew from the heavy breathing that filled her ear that her prediction hadn’t been far from the truth. “Emily, spare me the sound effects from a cheap adult chat line and spit it out.”

 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Emily, enough of the hysterics! I don’t have all day.” Andy heard Miranda snap.

  
“What exactly does it say?” She demanded as she paced the room. Andy watched her intently. _‘Accessory crisis?’_ She thought not.

  
“Have you spoken with Leigh?” Miranda continued. “Ok, let’s do what we can to limit the exposure. Cancel today’s schedule and I want to meet with my lawyer; immediately!” Andy felt Miranda’s tone reach what was possibly a lifetime record on the deadly-metre. “And, I want the name of the _Runway_ informant waiting on my desk when I arrive. That’s all.” She snapped definitively and ended the call.

  
Andy knew that if she waited for Miranda to explain she would be waiting a very long time. “Is everything ok?” She asked timidly.  
“Not exactly.” Miranda seethed.

  
Andy took at step towards her and Miranda side stepped the advance; heading into the hall to retrieve her coat and bag.

  
Andy followed. “Hey! What is it?!” Miranda remained silently. “Miranda, tell me what’s going on?” But Miranda didn’t respond. Changing her tact, Andy tried again. “Do I need to call Emily to schedule a response?”

  
The insolent tone caused Miranda to bite, which had been Andy’s intention. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just need to deal with this.” She answered distractedly.

  
“No,” Andy took hold of Miranda’s wrist. “You need to talk to me first.” Both women remained locked in a stare down for what-to-Andy seemed like an eternity, an eternity of fiery hell.

  
Miranda pulled her wrist away from Andy’s grasp with force. “Come with me!” She ordered, her voice was quiet yet it spoke volumes. Miranda led them to the den and closed the door away from the prying ears of the house keeper and the security team.

  
Miranda launched straight into her explanation, letting her anger flare. “Your not-so-reputable employer has published a damning story about my personal life and my attachment to a young female reporter. I warned him and now he’s gone too far.”

  
“And you blame me for this?” Andy questioned, affronted by Miranda’s words.

  
“Of course not, you silly girl! I…I just need to…” Miranda stumbled over her words as the anger took over.

  
“You just need to control everything. I know you, Miranda. However, Eddie can’t…no, won’t be controlled. It’s all about the scoop for him and he doesn’t care who or what he tramples on to get it.”

  
Miranda still wouldn’t look Andy in the eye. There was something that she wasn’t telling her. “Miranda, what did you do?”

  
“I was simply looking out for your and our best interests.” Miranda answered.

  
Andy paused to consider Miranda’s words. “What does that mean?”

  
“It means that I did what was necessary to protect you.” She snapped.

  
“I’m a big girl, Miranda! I don’t need you to fight my battles.” Andy countered.

  
Miranda had wanted to avoid this. Yes, she would admit that Andy had changed. She was stronger, more independent, but even after everything she had been through she still had a beautiful innocence that radiated from her soul. Miranda never wanted her to lose that. At the time, she hadn’t thought twice about taking control of the situation. It was second nature to her. Looking back and analysing her motives Miranda knew that her primal instinct had been to protect Andrea. Potential consequences had been ignored, but the priority was Andrea’s safety. But she was struggling for the words to convey this to her.

  
She sighed deeply. “I want you to listen very carefully.” Miranda warned. “You are way out of your league here.”

  
Hearing the patronizing words, Andy snapped. “How dare you! You have no idea how hard I have worked to get here, the horrors I have seen, what I have done to build my name, my reputation, my credibility…” The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Realising that if anyone could understand how she was feeling and what she had done, it would be Miranda. She was filled with regret, only it was too late to take it back.

  
“Are you done with your little outburst?” Miranda snarked viciously. Her nostrils flared in anger and Andy felt her cheeks flame red as she simply nodded in response.

  
Miranda took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her skirt to recompose herself.  “I spoke to Mr. Curran the morning after the accident and I requested for all of your files and belongings to be sent to my office. I advised him that it would not be in his best interest to run any further pieces, which could be detrimental to the open investigation. I strongly suggested he cease and desist.”

 

“You pissed him off.” Andy interrupted.

“Well, as you can probably guess, he was less than happy with the suggestions that I made but my influential stature tends to hold some persuasive weight, so naturally he complied. Unfortunately, that same stature means that I am a constant target for the tabloids. I have to admit this wasn’t something I saw coming. Not yet anyway.”

  
“I’m sorry.” Andy offered feeling the gravity of the situation on her shoulders.

  
“Why are you sorry? Neither of us knew that he would do this.”

  
“I know him; I know what he is capable of. Maybe if you had talked to me, told me what was going on? I could have done something to stop this.”

  
Miranda held out her hand. For a woman who rarely needed to apologise, this was a massive gesture and Andy knew it. Taking Andrea’s hand, Miranda pulled her into a gentle hug.

  
“What are you going to do?” Andy whispered close to Miranda’s ear.

  
Miranda kissed Andrea softly on the temple. “I’m going to do what I do best and make this go away.”

  
Settling back into Miranda’s embrace, Andy let their conversation wash over her. There were so many things that needed to be said, they had spent the week avoiding the complicated, side stepping the difficult, and ignoring that giant pink elephant in the room.

  
Andy considered their situation. Lifting her head from Miranda’s shoulder and forced some direct eye contact. “You know we need to talk, don’t you?”

  
Miranda sighed deeply. “Not right now, Andrea.” She warned.  

  
Andy tried desperately to read Miranda’s thoughts, but she wasn’t giving anything away. “Ok, but soon, very soon. I need to know what this is and what we are doing here?”

  
“I know, I agree. I’ll be home for dinner, we’ll talk then.” Miranda smiled. It was a warm, genuine smile that made Andy feel as if she was dancing on a cloud. “But now, I need to get to work. I have some heads to crack.”

  
“Ok, but go easy on Emily!” Andy noted. The backward glance she received from Miranda could only be described as pure evil. 

  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
As first assistant to one of the most powerful women in the country, Emily could be forgiven for being a little tightly wound. The fact that her name was pre-empted by many with the title ‘long suffering assistant to Miranda Priestly’ often raised the question: why Emily hadn’t broken yet?

  
The answer was not difficult, not to Emily anyway. Miranda was her queen and as long as she wielded this sword of power, Emily would continue to show her loyalty. In the end she hoped to be recognized and given her Knighthood—or at the very least a Victoria Cross, for acts of bravery.

  
Today, actually, the week had been particularly challenging and for the first time Emily had found herself questioning her unquestionable level of dedication.

  
Denial had been her number one ally so far. She’d told herself that she didn’t want to know why Miranda had rushed to Andrea’s side in the hospital. Why she had called her a _friend?_ Especially when Miranda Priestly didn’t have any friends, certainly not an insolent little nobody, like Andrea-bloody-Sachs. Now, there was this article with its wild and ridiculous accusations. The story had the entire office in a state of simultaneous shock and panic and had put everyone on red-alert. It was almost too much for Emily Charlton to bear; after all, denial could only hold jealousy at bay for so long!

  
Emily was so caught up in her little world-of-woe, she had not heard the warning shot fired from her cell phone announcing Miranda’s arrival into the lobby. Even the ping of the elevator door opening in the hall had not snapped her out of her self-pity haze.

Unfortunately, for Emily it was the sound of Miranda clearing her throat as she stood looming over her desk, which finally brought her back to reality. For this, there would be hell to pay.

  
“Am I interrupting you?” Miranda challenged, fixing Emily with her infamous flesh-eating stare.

  
“Um…um…um.” Emily stammered suddenly feeling quite faint. 

  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Nigel had managed to hide away in his office for most of the morning. He’d seen the article and he knew that Miranda had every right to be on the warpath. He also couldn’t admit to being surprised about the wild allegations. Now he had been pushed to think about it, the pieces fell into place quite nicely. Suddenly it made sense to him.

  
It was mid-afternoon before curiosity finally got the better of him, forcing him from his hidey-hole. Stealth crawling into the outer office–well as best he could wearing a lime-green suit—he listened for sounds of flagellation and/or sobbing. To his disappointment, there was only silence.

  
“So?” Nigel whispered to an extremely frazzled looking Emily over her desk.  

  
“What do you bloody think?” Emily hissed venomously.

  
“I think it’s time we went for a little walk, don’t you?” Nigel’s whispered voice was so muted that he practically mouthed his sentence to her.

  
Emily rolled her eyes, knowing that he only wanted the gossip; frankly, she welcomed the offer of sanctuary. Applying the death-stare, she fixed her gaze on a puffy-eyed teary Carrie and pointed her finger with force. “If you move from that desk, I will bloody tar and feather you. Do you understand?”

  
Carrie simply nodded, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

  
Emily followed Nigel back to his office, as fast as her Choos would carry her. Past experience had taught her that when the defcon level was raised this high, leaving the desk for any more than five minutes could be potentially catastrophic.  
“So?” Nigel asked impatiently.

  
Emily began pacing the room much like a patient on a mental ward. “Oh my god, I mean…oh my god! I can’t begin to tell you how foul she has been today.”

  
“Really darling, as if you need to? Come on, spill!” He urged.

  
“It was Shanya the Hair and Beauty Editor. She didn’t turn up for work this morning. Apparently, she’s been AWOL for two days now. Miranda told me to…” Emily made double air inverted commas. “…‘deal with it.’  I hope the money was worth it, because believe me she will never work in this town again. Jesus, Nigel what the bloody hell am I supposed to do about the story? Her lawyers are about as much use as a chocolate fireguard. What is so difficult about suing that rag? Defamation of character? Slander? Libel? I could do it myself with a quick internet law degree.” Emily released an exasperated sigh.

  
“So, what are they doing?” He asked, shocked at the lack of movement from the lawyers.

  
Emily sighed again. “Well, of course, it’s not as easy as just suing. They have to find actual malice before they can proceed. For god sake, did they go the College of Idiocy? Of course, it was malicious! In the meantime, while they fanny around trying to figure out their arses from their elbows, who gets it in the neck? ME, that’s who, I blame her for all of this, Andrea-bloody-Sachs!” Emily paused for a moment; her voice broke as if she was on the verge of tears. “Why her Nigel? Why?”

  
“Really Red! Don’t tell me you are shocked by this?” Nigel waved his hand in the air animatedly. To the outsider, Nigel gave the impression that he was impervious, that he didn’t care. The truth was they had served too much time on the frontline side-by-side for him to ever turn his back on Emily. Of course he wanted to know every dirty detail, that was a given, but deep down he knew he’d gone there to talk Emily down from the ledge. “First assistant to Miranda Priestly is a thankless, sun up to sun down, shit shovelling job. Believe me, nobody deserves that pat on the back more than you do, sweetheart.” Nigel took Emily by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eyes. “Do you really think that she cares about this law suit?”

“But…?” Emily stammered.

“Darling, the fashion industry thrives on diversity. She knows that this little expose couldn’t possibly do anything but good for her career and this magazine. But that’s not the point is it? No… the point is they took the decision out of her hands, she was no longer in control. They backed her into a corner like an animal and what is cornered beast to do but attack?” Nigel gave her shoulders another reassuring squeeze and continued his pep talk. “You have come this far, don’t give up now. She will make it up to you one day, I promise.” Nigel believed his own words even if he was still waiting for his own redemption. “Now you will do what you do best. Go back in there and perform a sweet fucking miracle. I know you’ve got it in you.”

  
Emily nodded and Nigel watched the stiff upper lip return. “That’s my girl.”

His work here was done. 

  
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Andy had spent the morning with her physiotherapist, whom she had nicknamed Helga the Great. She was built like a tank and twice as intimidating. It was like arguing with a brick wall. Sadly, Andy had found this out the hard way.  
After her daily torture session with Helga, Andy found the conversation with Miranda was still playing on her mind. The only thing competing with Miranda in Andrea’s mind was Eddie.

 

Daytime television would not do, she needed a heavier distraction. Time alone meant too much time left for thinking about things she just didn’t have answers to. The doubts and uncertainty that came with these impossible puzzles was something she didn’t want to deal with, but couldn’t escape either.

  
‘ _Why did Eddie do this? Why didn’t he come to see me at the hospital? Why hasn’t called? Should I call him?’_

  
On reflection, Andy knew she had been foolish to ask Miranda why she did what she did and why she hadn’t told her the situation from the outset; it was her nature. What Eddie had done was simply unforgivable but also part of his nature. In many ways, they were both as stubborn as each other.

  
‘ _An outing in page six!’_ Andy half chuckled to herself, the whole situation was beyond surreal. They had barely settled on their feelings for each other never mind revealing it to the entire world. She was suddenly grateful that they still hadn’t been able to contact her parents in Europe; her mother’s reaction didn’t bear thinking about. As for the article, did this mean she was fired or was it simply Eddie’s fucked up way of promoting her?

  
Her thoughts were running at a million miles a second and as usual, Miranda was leading the race. Andrea knew how she felt and what she wanted to say. The problem was whether Miranda was ready to hear it?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It was early evening when the silver Mercedes pulled up outside the townhouse. It had been a long challenging day for Miranda and as much as she was looking forward to seeing Andrea, she was feeling nervous about their promise to talk.

  
Miranda hung her coat in the hallway closet and listened to the sounds in the house. The extractor fan was on low in the kitchen; indicating that dinner was underway and there was a steady flow of radio chatter coming from the security walkie-talkie in the lounge. She found herself missing the thunderous rumble of footsteps and excited shouts that would normally greet her and she had a sudden urge to call the girls, despite having only spoken to them an hour before.

  
Ascending the stairs to her study, she found Andrea curled up asleep in the corner of the couch with an open book on her lap. Miranda stood at the entrance to the room watching her. The soft light from the table lamps danced across Andrea’s face and it reminded Miranda of the nights spent in the hospital, watching her sleep, listening to her breathing.

  
Andy stirred and opened her eyes, smiling brightly as soon as she saw Miranda in the room. “How ever did you manage to dispose of all those bodies and still be home for dinner?” Andy half yawned, stretching her sleepy muscles as much as her shoulder would allow.

  
Miranda arched a perfectly formed eyebrow and gestured towards Andy who was rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Hmmm, I can see that you have had a productive day.”

  
Andy couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Why don’t I get you a drink and you can tell me all about your day?” 

  
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It was late evening when _The Book_ arrived and the two women retired back to the study. Dinner had been pleasant; Miranda had of course played down the events of the day, giving Andrea only snippets of the chaos in her world outside the townhouse.

  
After reading the same line for at least the fourth time, Miranda knew that any attempt at focusing on _The Book_ tonight was pointless. She took a deep sigh and put down her red pen. “Andrea, have you done this before?” She asked breaking the silence.

  
Andy looked up from the screen of her laptop and contemplated the question. “It depends what you mean by _‘this’?_ If you mean: Have I ever been shot and gone to live with my very attractive, older ex-boss? Then the answer is ‘no.’ However, If you mean: Have I ever been in a relationship with a woman, then I would also have to technically say no…”

  
“Andrea…” Miranda rolled her eyes in a spectacular fashion to demonstrate her impatience with Andrea’s rambling.  

  
Andy got the hint. “I’ve had a few relationships in my life. The high school boyfriend, you know the one you promise to love forever, but as soon as college starts you realise he’s a meathead. Then there was Nate. We met in the last year of college. We became inseparable. He was my best friend and somehow it just evolved into a relationship. But, it wasn’t meant to be. Since Nate, I’ve had the usual string one-night stands, just meaningless sex. I’ve always been attracted to women but I guess I’ve always just found guys’ easier.”

  
“What happened with Nate?”

  
“You…”

Miranda furrowed her brow in confusion at Andrea’s answer and urged her to explain.

“Back then I blamed it on _Runway_ , on the job. I didn’t have time for him, for our life, but to be honest I think he knew it before I did. It was always you and it was only a matter of time before the house of cards that we called a relationship came tumbling down around us. It just took me a little longer to see it.” Andy left her seat on the couch and walked around the desk to Miranda’s side. “What are you thinking?”

  
Miranda rubbed her still furrowed brow. She had accepted her feelings for Andrea; she knew what they were and how good it felt. However, saying them aloud was a different matter. ‘ _The time is now.’_ Miranda told herself. “I’m thinking that when I’m with you I feel happy and that it just feels right. But I’m still scared. For the first time in a very long time, I’m scared and I don’t know how to deal with it. There’s not just me to consider here and I would be foolish to think anything different. I don’t want to look like some kind of fool and I don’t want to break my heart over you. I…”

  
“Miranda, don’t forget that you were the brave one here, you made the move. Granted I was unconscious in a hospital bed, but…” Andy took Miranda’s hand and squeezed it tenderly, until Miranda looked her in the eyes. “I’ve tried so many times over the last two years to tell you how I feel and explain how you have remained in my heart. Two years is a long time. I couldn’t bear the fact that I’d hurt you and I know I did. Now I’ve tasted this, there's no going back for me.” Andy paused and cupped Miranda’s chin softly with her hand. “I’m not going anywhere and I would never leave you.”

  
“You already did.”

  
Andy sighed. “That was different.”

  
“Tell me Andrea. How was it different?” Miranda implored.

  
“I didn’t leave you, I left _Runway_.” She stated.

  
“I am _Runway_!”

  
“Ok, ok!” Andy, shook her head. She knew it was time for David to take on Goliath. “Enough of the God Complex, Miranda. I know exactly who you are.”

  
“And who might that be?” She challenged.

  
“Miranda, you are a ruthless and ridiculously successful business woman, with incredibly high standards; you give nothing but your best and expect nothing less in return. However, that is not all of you. _Runway_ is not who you are. This week and in Paris I saw you, the kind, generous, and nurturing woman. You are a breath of fresh air to me and when I’m with you, I feel wonderful. When I’m in your arms I feel safe. Miranda…” Andy paused to summon the courage she needed to continue. “Can’t you see that I am in love with you?”

  
Miranda was at a loss for words. She wanted to spill all of her thoughts and feelings; she wanted them to run free like an open tap. Feeling love was one thing, saying it aloud was quite another. After several painful minutes of silence, she finally found her tongue. “It’s rare that anyone can render me speechless, but you seem to achieve it effortlessly.” She wrapped her arms around Andrea and whispered gently into her ear, the muted tones almost making it easier to say aloud. “When I’m with you it feels like lightning running through my veins. When I hold you, when you look at me the way you do, I want to tell you just how good it feels. There’s so much I want to say but I...”

  
Andy had not planned to tell Miranda that she loved her; it had just felt right in the moment. Miranda’s words made her heart dance, an unprecedented feeling of bliss ran through her body, trembling she pulled back from the embrace. “I know that this isn’t as simple as I’ve made it out to be.” She said stopping Miranda’s words. “There is a lot to consider, the girls, your career, my lack of one, the death threat hanging over my head and all this media madness. I’m not asking you to tell me what you think I want to hear. I just… before I get in this even deeper than I am already. I need to know that you are willing to try, because I just don’t think my heart could take losing you again.”

  
Miranda’s body craved the intimacy that Andrea could give her, the purity of desire that she longed to claim for her own. She had been numb for too long. Andrea’s words had opened the way for new beginnings and Miranda’s doubts and fears slipped away like sands in a tide.

  
Their lips met in a frenzied clash, sealing the promise of their words with action. Mouths parted, allowing tongues to swirl, lick, and taste as if starved.

  
Miranda’s hands gripped around Andrea’s back and snaked up into her hair, scraping her fingers teasingly across her scalp. Andrea broke the kiss and moved her lips along Miranda’s jaw line. Miranda couldn’t help the moan that escaped as teeth lightly nipped against her exposed throat.

  
Andy gently released the clasp on her support sling, freeing her arm and allowing her to wrap them both around Miranda and guide her backwards towards the desk. Miranda lifted herself on to the flat surface, wrapping her legs around Andrea’s hips, sealing their bodies tightly together. The kiss deepened and Andrea began to unbutton Miranda’s blouse.  

  
Suddenly an unexpected orchestral blast of _The Ride of the Valkyries_ filled the room as Miranda’s cell phone burst to life on the desk. The sudden interruption caused both women to jump and break apart.  
Panting heavily and slightly disoriented, it took Miranda a couple of seconds to snap back into reality. The sound of Wagner meant one thing, the Twins.

  
Andy watched as Miranda fumbled with the call button. “Cassidy?” Miranda spoke softly into the receiver, but the tone changed immediately after the caller spoke. “Greg? Why are you calling from Cassidy’s cell phone? … Don’t be ridiculous! … Oh for heavens sake, this is none of your business… Of course, I am going to speak to them about it! Greg, I’m not willing to discuss this any further with you. I’ll call the girls in the morning. That’s all.”

  
“Do I even need to ask what that was about?” Andy asked.

  
Miranda shook her head and settled back next to Andy who was now leaning against the edge of the desk.

  
“Way to kill the mood, huh?” Andy asked sheepishly.

  
“He had a knack of doing that when we were married, why should I expect him to break the habit of a lifetime?”

  
Andy chuckled lightly but Miranda remained stone faced, deep in thought. “Are you ok?” Andy asked.

  
It had been a long, hard day and Miranda was exhausted. Before they were interrupted, they had been heading down a very clear path, one that she knew for certain she would not have been able to stop on her own. Miranda knew she wanted it. Every time she looked in Andrea’s eyes, she could see it, every time they were close to one another, she could feel it. The phone call had given her time to think and given enough time for all the insecurities to rush to surface, turning in circles in her mind.  
Miranda moved to leave the room. “It’s late I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  
Andy grabbed Miranda’s wrist and pulled her back. “Miranda, did I do something wrong?”

  
Miranda released her wrist from the grip and took Andrea’s hand to stroke it gently. “Quite the opposite, you did exactly what I wanted you to do. I just need… I just…”

  
They had taken a massive step forward in the promises they had made to each other both spoken and unspoken. Andrea had felt it sink into her mind, skin and soul. “It’s ok, I understand.” Andy leaned over and kissed Miranda gently on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
_Shots rang out from behind her as she reached the edge of the car park, concrete shards sprayed off the building wall as she rounded the corner. Seeing the lights ahead of her, the beautiful stained glass windows fifty yards ahead, she felt another stab of pain seer through her body, throwing her to the ground. As the footsteps approached, growing louder with each step, she could hear the voice screaming._

_  
“No, no, no…” It was her own voice._

 

  
Andy woke with a start; her heart was racing. She reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, wincing from the awkward stretch. _It was dream, just a silly dream._ Some how this reasoning didn’t make her feel any better.  
The perils of living alone meant that she had counselled herself through bad dreams many times before this. Her usual method was late night television but even then, there were times where she had been left with no choice but to get up and go into the office, anything not to be alone anymore.

  
The images of that night in the deserted car park had not left her, the smell of the blood still coated the back of her throat, every time she over stretched her shoulder she heard the crack of the rifle replay in her head.  
As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she knew that turning on the light and the television couldn’t help her tonight.

  
The gentle knock on her bedroom door snapped Miranda out of her ceiling-staring daze. Sleep had eluded her, but she was still startled by the sound. The door handle turned slowly and Miranda sat up in her bed.

  
“Andrea? Is everything… are you ok?” Andy’s silhouetted figure stood in the doorway, Miranda couldn’t see her face in the dim light but the headshake was definitely to the negative. Tapping the bed beside her, she beckoned her forward. “Come on.”  
Andy’s bare feet padded on the wooden floor before reaching the lush rug around the bed. Miranda pulled back the cover inviting Andrea to climb in.

  
It had been longer than Miranda would care to admit since she had shared her bed with anyone and even longer since she had actually slept through the whole night. Tonight it was a question of wants and needs. Miranda did not want to spend the night alone and Andy needed to feel safe.

  
Lying in Miranda’s arms, Andy fell asleep within minutes.

  
Content with Andrea’s body wrapped around her, Miranda listened to her gentle breathing and followed her into slumber. 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

District Attorney Sharpe had not left her office for over twenty-four hours, not seen her son for nearly two days. She knew that moments like this should remind her why she did it and make it all worthwhile, but somehow it still tasted bitter sweet.

  
“Yes, Sir.” She confirmed into the phone receiver. “We got it. The forensics, blood analysis and ballistics are all stacked and ready to go. The boys in I.A have gone above and beyond with this one. We’ve got testimonies coming out the ying yang! ...Yes, Sir. I understand… Thank you, Sir. That’s excellent news!” She sighed as she placed the receiver back on to it’s cradle.

  
She knew that she should be feeling elated, euphoric, or at the very least satisfied with their achievements. Instead, she was left with a niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach, the kind you get when you know you’ve missed something.

  
The Sachs case had been playing on her mind for days. It all pointed to Corelli as the shooter, but he wasn’t talking and they didn’t have enough evidence to hold him. It was obvious that Corelli wasn’t in this alone. Her mind she full of unanswered questions. _‘Who had orchestrated the shooting? Why did they wait until O’Hanlon had exposed them before striking? Why had O’Hanlon gone to The Post and more importantly to Andrea Sachs?’_ With all of these questions still open, she feared that they had barely uncovered the tip of the iceberg.

  
She could hide her head in the sand, they were virtually home and dry with the case and the Grand Jury date was set. However, it wasn’t in her nature. She couldn’t risk the defence uncovering something that could later blow a hole in the prosecution. Something unknown, Sharpe knew that the unknown was always the most dangerous thing in a courtroom.

  
There was only one thing left to do. Sharpe prepared to enter the dragon’s lair.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

_Shots rang out from behind her as she reached the edge of the car park, concrete shards sprayed off the building wall as she rounded the corner. Seeing the lights ahead of her, the beautiful stained glass windows fifty yards ahead, she felt another stab of pain seer through her body, throwing her to the ground. As the footsteps approached, growing louder with each step_ _“No, no, no…”_

_The black cloaked figure loomed over her. The barrel burned like fire as he pressed it to her forehead,_

_“Why?” She screamed at the top of her voice. “Why?”_

_He cocked the hammer; the mechanical sound was unmistakable. There was no-where to run, it was over…._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Miranda woke with a start as a short, sharp pain clinched her hip. Slightly disorientated after being ripped from her deep sleep, it took her a couple of seconds to organise her thoughts. 

She could feel the weight and the warmth of Andrea’s body pressed tightly against her, with her head resting gently on her breast. She opened her eyes to see the long brown locks spread across her chest. Andrea’s left arm rested on Miranda’s stomach, and her hand gripped tightly around her hip. A second dig of the fingernails was accompanied by gentle whimpering and Miranda knew that she was dreaming.

“Andrea? Andrea, wake up.” Miranda spoke softly as she stroked her back.

Andy woke suddenly, gasping as if she was fighting for air. Disorientated, it took her a few minutes to realise where she was. She felt arms tighten around her body, rocking her gently. The familiar scent filled her senses and the soft repetition of her name pulled her from the grip of the nightmare, gradually her heartbeat began to slow.

 _‘It was just a dream; it was just a dream.’_ She chanted to herself. She was safe, safe in Miranda’s arms.

Andy buried her head at the curve of Miranda’s breast and arm for a couple seconds.“I’m sorry.” Andy mumbled, still hiding her face as she fought to compose herself.

Miranda released her grip and moved on to her side so that she could face Andrea. “No-one can hurt you now.” She whispered as she stroked her face.

As the sun streamed through the gaps in the blinds, Miranda found that couldn’t take her eyes off Andrea’s flawless skin, hypnotised, as it glowed in the early morning light.

Caught in Miranda’s gaze, Andy could hear nothing but the sound of their breathing. Falling into those azure eyes Andy leaned forward, claiming Miranda’s lips for her own. Miranda filled her sense and washed away the nightmare.

The kiss was slow and gentle, yet filled with promise. A soft moan escaped Andy’s lips as Miranda’s hand slid down her back until it was resting on bare skin, under her nightshirt.

Miranda broke the kiss and moved her lips to Andrea’s jaw line and neck. Hearing her moan again sent shivers down Miranda’s spine. She felt her own nipples harden and wet heat pool between her legs. She pushed Andrea gently on to her back as desire took over. Banishing all the insecurities from her mind, she unbuttoned the cotton nightshirt, and began slowly kissing the exposed skin that each button revealed. It was the first time she had seen Andrea’s wound since the hospital. The stitches were covered with clean white padding, but the distressing bruising ran from her clavicle, down to her breast and round her side.

Andy saw the concerned look on Miranda’s face. “It’s ok.” She reassured as she brought Miranda’s hand to her mouth and kissed her fingers tenderly.  

Spurred on, Miranda continued using those same fingers to trail lightly over Andrea’s taut stomach, committing every inch to memory. The muscles clenched in anticipation, as fingers slipped below the waistband and slowly pulled at the drawstring holding the small cotton shorts in place.

Andy felt the pleasure shooting between her thighs as Miranda began to tease the shorts from her hips, her body begging for more. She ran her hand down Miranda’s body, lifting the exquisite silk and lace nightgown, revealing the soft porcelain skin beneath.

Unabashedly Miranda pulled it the rest of the way, avoiding the awkward stretch it would have imposed on Andrea’s shoulder.

Staring into each other’s eyes, no words were required. Want and need took over, superseding all else. Both women wanted this. Both women needed this.

Andy covered Miranda’s mouth with her own, savouring every slip of her tongue. She moved her hand to cup Miranda’s breast.

Miranda arched her back into the touch and moaned as Andrea’s fingers pinched the hard-pebbled nipple. It was not nearly enough, Andy needed to lick, to taste, to devour every inch of Miranda’s body. 

“Oh God…” Miranda moaned as Andrea moved on top of her and took her nipple into her mouth, circling it playfully with her tongue. Moving from one side to the other, she then began her slow teasing descent down her body.

Andy paid no mind to the flashes of pain in her shoulder, a mixture of desire and adrenalin taking over. She knew that she would pay for this later, but none of that mattered now—she was about to go down on Miranda Priestly. The woman she had been dreaming of day and night for the past two years. The woman she was in love with.

Miranda spread her legs as Andrea slid between them. Her body arched in pleasure as she felt the tongue run along her hip and down to the inside of her thigh. The editor’s hands gripped Andrea’s head, tangling her fingers in her hair. She could feel the hot breath pulsing against her center. “Please…” Miranda begged.

Andy could feel the anticipation of the past few days throb between her thighs as she looked up at Miranda. “Look at me…” Andy whispered. Miranda opened her eyes; they were dark and drunk with desire.

Miranda watched the devilish smirk grow on Andrea’s face before she buried her head between her thighs. Andrea’s eyes continued to stare her down, daring her to look away. “Uhhhhh…” Miranda cried out as Andrea took one, long, slow swipe with her tongue. It was as if she knew instinctively what Miranda wanted, where to touch her, how to touch her. The sheer intensity of her eyes was burning into her soul. Miranda didn’t want to consider how Andrea had gained these skills, but she was certainly indebted to them.

Andrea wrapped her arms around Miranda’s thighs spreading her wider. Her tongue pressed against Miranda’s clit, eliciting a deep, carnal moan from her lips. She began to circle and tease, adding more pressure until she could feel Miranda’s hips and abdomen undulating with each stroke.

Miranda tensed every muscle in her body as she felt the orgasm wash over her. She threw her head back and gripped on to the sheets as the wave rushed through her body. “Oh… Fuckkkk!” She cried out in desperation, unable to recall the last time she had come so hard. 

It took as couple of moments for Miranda to regain her senses and control of her limbs. “Come here.” She called as she reached down for Andrea.

Andy winced as she moved to get up. “I might need a little help.” She laughed, but spoke through clenched teeth. “Ouch.”

“Did I hurt you?” Miranda’s brow furrowed as she sat to help a rather ungraceful Andrea back up the bed. 

“No. Of course not. I’m just not exactly at my true physical peak.” Andy kissed Miranda as they lay back down together.

Miranda could taste herself on Andrea’s tongue; it was different but not unpleasant.

Andy rested her head on Miranda’s breast as Miranda wrapped her arms around her. “Miranda?”

“Hmmm?” She answered dreamily.

“Did you just curse?”

A smile spread across Miranda’s face. “There is a time and a place for everything.” She laughed. Pulling Andrea back to her lips, a euphoric feeling rushed through her, the thought that she could spend everyday like this.

Miranda ran her hand down Andrea’s body, grabbing her ass; she pulled her firmly against her. Their kisses deepened once more, growing fiercely intense as tongues battled for dominance.

Andy sucked Miranda’s bottom lip between her teeth as she moved to straddle her hips. “Touch me.” Andy pleaded against Miranda’s lips. Andy raised herself slightly, allowing Miranda to move her hand between her thighs and into her slick velvet folds.

Though she'd never been with a woman before, Miranda knew how she liked to be touched and could tell from the sounds Andrea was making and the way her body was responding that she was doing something right. Miranda slipped a finger inside of Andrea and she cried out for more. She gripped her free hand around Andrea’s hip, anchoring her lover against her and gladly obliged with her request. Grinding her palm against her clit, Andrea rode her hand, harder and faster, thrusting Miranda’s fingers as deep as they would go.

Miranda watched in awe as Andrea dropped her head back, eyes closed. Sweat glistened on her body and her stomach muscles contracted as she moved. Incoherent whispers escaped her lips. It was intoxicating. As she came, Miranda felt the explosion surge through Andrea’s entire body.

Andy sighed contently and slowly opened her eyes. “Would it be clichéd if I started quoting scripture?” she spoke still panting.

Miranda gently withdrew her fingers and rested both hands on Andrea’s hips. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I think I just saw the face of God!” She breathed.

Andrea’s stone-faced comment received a particularly exasperated eye roll from Miranda. “Well, I have been known to make people pray.” Miranda dead-panned, fighting to keep a straight face.

She looked into Andrea’s eyes and they both cracked at the same time, laughing like two naughty school children.

Andy lifted from her position and rested her body against Miranda’s. After several moments of relaxed silence, Andy lifted her head and looked into Miranda’s eyes, pushing a rebellious strand of hair from the editor’s eye. “Do you regret anything?”

Miranda stroked Andrea’s face gently. “Only that we didn’t do this sooner.” 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds and particles of untamed dust danced freely in the waves of light. District Attorney Sharpe’s office was dark, cloaked in a veil of mahogany. It was something that she had despised since inheriting it by default from the previous D.A. Three years after moving in she still hadn’t found the time or the motivation to do anything about it.

Her desk was in its usual state of organised chaos, crime scene photos, files and papers covered every inch of the surface and empty coffee cups balanced precariously on the edge; the paper and plastic trophies of another all-nighter in the office.

After reading the same line for what must have been the tenth time, Sharpe snapped the file shut. She ran her fingers absently over the name of the label on the cover as the unanswered questions continued to rush through her mind. Flicking through her address book, she found the number she required.

“Miranda Priestly’s office.” Announced the young woman on the line.  

“This is District Attorney Sharpe. I’d like a meeting with Miranda as soon as possible.” She requested.                                       

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda’s morning had started out better that she could have anticipated. The traffic had seemed lighter than usual, the elevator had been waiting for her as she arrived in the lobby, and her coffee had been the perfect temperature.

Leaving Andrea at home had been difficult. They had made so much progress in the last twenty-four hours; breaking through countless emotional and physical barriers. But, with London Fashion Week just a couple of days away there were some important decisions to be made and so, with a heavy heart she had left Andrea in her bed and had gone to face the day.

She floated into her office with her bodyguard in tow, launching her bag and coat on to Carrie’s desk with the usual flare before she proceeded into her office.

Emily rolled her eyes at the hopeless second assistant before falling into step behind Miranda and waiting for the morning onslaught to begin. 

“Well?” Miranda spat impatiently.

Emily managed to hold back the flash of annoyance at Miranda’s impatience. _‘I’m not a fucking mind reader Miranda!_ She thought, but quickly moved past her urge to throw a tantrum and jumped into her update. “District Attorney Sharpe has requested an urgent meeting. I’ve pushed the accessories run-through back to three-forty-five to accommodate her. Smith, Hoffman and Peterson have sent over another set of legal papers for you to sign." Emily watched intently as Miranda bristled at the mention of the attorneys.   "They said, and I quote: ‘You will not be disappointed.’ Dalton has confirmed that they have received this week’s assignment from the girls and asked if you require next week’s curriculum also.”

Miranda did not speak for a long time after the update and so Emily waited for her dismissal. Leaving without it was like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane without a parachute. If she was lucky, she would receive a clear ‘That’s all.’ Unfortunately, more often than not, it would be little more than a flick of the eyebrow, something only the trained eye could spot.

“Close the door and sit down.” Miranda instructed.

Emily’s heart began to race as she ran through all the possible reasons why she would want her to close the door. It was usual practise to fire employees with the door open. A public show of tears and humiliation were par for the course. Closing the door meant something much more serious and Emily didn’t know if she had the strength for this today.

“I will not be attending London Fashion week…” Miranda announced.

Those words instantly made Emily consider ending it all, right there and then.

“… I will need you to meet with Nigel to re-arrange the schedule where you see fit. I will require twice-daily updates from each show, the press junkets and any important after-events. I’d like you to meet with Devereaux this afternoon for a fitting, I will not have my representative wearing closet cast-offs to the second biggest event of the year. Is that clear?”

Emily’s jaw was almost on the floor. “Pardon?” She stammered.

“Emily, are you listening to me? You know how I loathe repeating myself.” Miranda sighed.   

“Are you sending me to London?” She asked, not quite sure if she heard correctly.

“What part of my instructions was unclear? Are you hearing impaired?”

“No, no. I understand. I just…” Emily gripped the arms on her chair as the excitement and shock threatened to take over. “Oh my god! It’s…” 

Miranda cut Emily off mid-sentence to continue her musings. “I think that when you return we will talk about your future with _Runway Magazine_ and where we feel you will be most suited.”

Emily felt the news rushing over her in waves. ‘ _This must be what heaven feels like?’_ She buzzed, but then, the sinking feeling of reality crept up on her. “What about you?” She worried. “Do you think Carrie is ready?”

“Yes, well that girl is mentally challenged. However, I trust that you have trained her well, either way you will only be a phone call away.” Miranda smiled.

“Miranda, I don’t know how I can begin thank you for this opportunity.”

“No need. Just do your job. That’s all.” Miranda turned her attention to the papers on her desk and Emily took her clear cue to leave. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharpe soaked in the lush corporate surroundings as she exited the elevator. The sea of white was clinical yet oddly peaceful. The lack of warmth from the staff, however, was most disturbing. After being looked up and down more times than a suspect in a line-up at the county jail, she felt like she needed a good boost of self-esteem.

A snooty redhead, whom she knew to be Emily, offered to take her coat before tossing it unceremoniously to a rather scared looking young woman opposite. As she looked round the room she clocked the two dashingly-handsome, private security guards who were sat discreetly in the corner watching everyone and everything.

Miranda stood to greet Sharpe as Emily led her into the office. Her eyes scanned the District Attorney’s attire and she nodded in approval before directing her to take a seat.   A nod from the fashion queen herself was quite a remarkable feeling, especially considering she hadn’t changed her clothes in over twenty hours. But, Armani was Armani and Miranda clearly appreciated a simple, tailored cut.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice, Miranda.”

Miranda waited for Emily to close the door before she began. “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we?” Miranda raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

Sharpe smiled at the directness. “I want to know what your involvement is in this case.”  

“I’m sure that is none of your business!” Miranda irked.

“You see Miranda, that’s where you are wrong. This is my case and I need answers. I risked my neck to get you that tape. You may feel that you didn’t give me an option, but I won’t be threatened. I did it because I respect you. If you have even an ounce of respect for me you will tell me everything you know.” Sharpe folded her arms and waited for her answer.

Miranda shook her head and laughed at the preposterous insinuation of her involvement. “Do you honestly think that I had anything to do with this mess?”

“Hell Miranda, I just don’t know anymore. There are too many questions and not enough answers. Why Andrea?”

“What makes you think I have any of these answers? Surely you should go to the source.”

“How do I know that you aren’t the source?” Sharpe challenged.

Miranda pursed her lips in frustration. “Of that I am sure. I have nothing to do with the case.”

“Why did you go to her that night?” She pushed.  

“For heavens sake Beatrice, she had been shot! She was lying alone in a hospital bed. Why do you think I went to her?”

“I saw the article.” Sharpe added.

Miranda exhaled loudly. “You disappoint me, I thought of you as a hard facts and figures woman, not one to pay attention to such distasteful gossip.”

“Where there’s smoke there’s fire.” Sharpe goaded.

Standing on either side of the glass desk, the two women stared each other down in what they both knew to be a pointless battle.

Sharpe was the first to relent. “Look Miranda. I want more than anything to believe that you have nothing to do with this, but this is my world and I can’t protect you if you don’t talk to me.”

Miranda moved from behind her desk and walked to the window, scanning the New York skyline as she tried to organise her thoughts. Andrea was her involvement, pure and simple. Just like the incident with Curran, she had not fully considered the implications of her actions before now. She was caught in something that was bigger than she was and for first the time in a long time, she felt like the situation was out of her control. She really had no choice but to tell Sharpe everything.

Sharpe had waited a couple of minutes before joining Miranda at the window and standing at her side in silence. She understood that patience was a virtue. “This is strictly off the record.” Sharpe assured.

“It took me a long time to admit it.” Miranda began. “But from the very first time I met her I knew she was different. She walked in here, full of promise and youthful ebullience; it was sickening.” Miranda continued to stare out of the window, as if the skyline offered the answers. “I tried to break her, to shape and mould her into a Runway clone. I soon realised she was so much more than that. She challenged me, she made me feel alive and I knew she had a great future ahead of her.”

“What happened?” Sharpe probed.

Miranda shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“I won’t judge you Miranda.”

Having only just come to terms with her feelings for Andrea, Miranda knew that this conversation would be difficult for her. However, she was feeling an odd sense of liberation as the truth spilled from her lips. “She saw the demon. One day I went too far and I lost her. Of course at the time I was too stubborn to see what I’d done, too blind to admit that she meant anything to me. Looking back, I can tell you I was heartbroken.” Miranda turned to face Sharpe. “Do you believe in fate?” She asked pointedly.  

Sharpe studied Miranda’s face. Raw emotion and vulnerability spilled out of every pore, it was unnerving and refreshing all at once.

“Yes, I do.” She answered.  

“I didn’t, but I think I do now. I think that everything happens for a reason. That night was the first time I had seen her for nearly two years and unexpectedly I was given a second chance. I’d never been so scared in all my life, but I took it.”

They stood in companionable silence for several minutes before Sharpe placed her hand on Miranda’s arm and smiled. “Thank you for being honest.”

Miranda kept her gaze fixed out of the window. “I trust that this will not go any further?” She asked coldly.

“Of course” Sharpe agreed. “Unfortunately, I still need to find the answers to these missing pieces.” She sighed.

“Andrea is at the townhouse.” Miranda stated. “I’ll let you her know that you are on your way.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy heard the door open and close, then the faint murmurings of a polite conversation growing closer. Her phone call with Miranda had been brief, simply to relay that the D.A was on her way to ask her some more questions and that if she needed her that she should call immediately. But, she had sounded distracted and it had left Andy concerned about the level of impact her presence was having on Miranda’s work.

“Miss. Sachs, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Sharpe smiled as she was shown into the study.

“Please call me Andy.” Andy stood and led them to the couch.

“How has your rehabilitation been coming along? You look well.”

“It hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park, but I’m getting there. Miranda informs me that you would like to ask some questions. I’m quite sure I told Captain Moore everything about the night, but I’d be happy to help where I can.”

“I don’t doubt that Andy, I just have a few points I’d like to clear up. I don’t know about you but I always like to know the bigger picture, so I want to understand everything about the events leading up to that night. Most importantly, to try and understand why they chose you. Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

Andy shook her head as they both took a seat.

Sharpe pressed record and opened her flip pad. “Can you tell me how you ended up in that car that night?”

“I suppose the correct answer would be, because I’m an idiot.”

Sharpe smiled. “Hindsight sure is a bastard, isn’t it?” She offered as consolation and watched Andy’s smile practically light up the room. She could see what Miranda had meant when she’d described her meeting the girl. “Why don’t you tell me from the start, how did you get involved in this case.”

“I had been working on a series of seemingly random crime stories that spanned throughout the city. At first, I didn’t see the link, there was no obvious connection. It wasn’t until the Rodriguez case, that I started to put it together. There were endless cases with incomplete evidence, ballistics that didn’t make sense, eye witness testimonies that didn’t corroborate with the police officer statements. Lucian Hernando another one that didn’t add up landed on my doorstep on the very morning that all this happened.”

“Why didn’t you contact I.A?” Sharpe questioned.

“I’m not a cop, I’m journalist. Besides, I wouldn’t have known whom to trust.”

“What about the call?” She added.

“You mean from the cop?” Andy asked and Sharpe nodded. ”I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, I don’t know if O’Hanlon actually asked for me or whether it was because I was on duty and therefore drew the short straw. Cynthia knew I was covering the crime desk with Derek Collins and I know that she thinks Collins is an ass so she wouldn’t have passed any leads to him, out of principal. So I don’t know if I got the call by default. But, it still seems pretty sus’ though, huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell Captain Moore any of this?”

“He didn’t ask me. He just wanted my version of events on the night. You know, whose car I was in and what the cop said to me, whether I saw the shooter, that type of stuff.”

“What about your Editor? The notes said it was his car that you took.”

“Yeah, it’s actually more of a pool car but it’s in Eddie’s name. I told that to Captain Moore and I assumed he would be interviewed as well. But, what I didn’t mention was that we are not supposed to go out alone. A couple of years back, one of the guys was beaten and robbed while following up on a story.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, intrigued by Andrea admittance.

“Miranda was in the room when the Captain was asking me the questions. I knew it was pretty stupid thing to do and to be honest I…”

“I understand.” She interrupted. “You didn’t want to have to explain yourself.”

“Exactly.” Andy confirmed bashfully. 

So why did you go alone?” Sharpe pressed.

“Have you ever felt like you were invincible? I’ve never known real fear. I guess I didn’t know I was supposed to be scared of it.”

Sharpe looked into Andy’s eyes. “Sometimes, we learn the hard way.” She offered empathetically before looking down at her notes. “What is your relationship like with your Editor?”

Andy shook her head and laughed. “If you had asked me that question a couple of weeks ago I would have told you that he was my mentor, someone that aspired to be and a real father figure.”

“And now?”

“Did you see what he did?” She laughed incredulously.

Sharpe’s brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head.

“That tabloid tat, that he ran about me and Miranda?”

“Oh yes. I saw it.” She confirmed and allowed Andy to continue.

“He is just unreal. He didn’t come to see me in the hospital, he hasn’t returned my calls and now he has published these destructive and heartless comments about Miranda. I get it, she hurt his ego, but she did it to protect me. He didn’t need to do this.”

Sharpe underlined Eddie Curran’s name several times on her notepad. “Why do you think he hasn’t contacted you?”

 “I don’t know why he didn’t call originally. But now it’s pretty obvious that it’s because Miranda is about to rain down the fires of hell on him.”

“Did he have any involvement in your articles?”

“Sure, he is the Editor in Chief; he gets final sign off on everything that goes in the paper. Plus, he came up through the crime desk. In the early days a lot of my contacts and sources were supplied by him. Like I said, he was a real mentor to me. I think that’s why this feels like such a betrayal.”

“What about Miranda?”

“What about her?” Andy asked, suddenly feeling very defensive.

“How is she involved?” Sharpe saw the defensive walls go up but knew she had to push through.

“She has nothing to do with this. In fact, I think she is the only good thing to have come out of this for me, I wish we could have met again under better circumstances but everything happens for a reason, right?”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.” Sharpe smiled warmly and closed her flip pad. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me Andy, it has been really useful.”

“I’m glad I could be of use.” She answered politely.  

“In my line of work questions do tend to pop up, as I’m sure they do in yours. So I may return if necessary.” Sharpe summarized.

“Anytime.” Andy flashed her thousand watt smile and bid the D.A farewell.

As Sharpe walked back to her car, she flicked through her notes once more. Eddie Curran... He seemed more interesting by the second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda reclined in her chair and kicked off her heels. She dialled the familiar number and mentally prepared to have to explain herself and her actions for the second time that day, it was not something she was used to.

“Hi, Mom.” Caroline greeted as she picked up the call.

“Hello, sweetheart. Is your sister with you?” Miranda heard the click of the speakerphone, before being greeted by her second Daughter.

“Hi, Mom. Did Daddy call you last night?” The two girls chorused.

“Yes, he did. He said you had some concerns.” Miranda confirmed.

“No.” Caroline scoffed. “He had the concerns.”

“Had a fit more like!” Cassidy chimed in.

“I see. And what about you? How do you both feel?”

“Is it true?” They asked in unison.

“It’s true that Andrea was hurt by some bad people and she had no-one to take care of her. Therefore, I asked her to come and stay at the townhouse. But you already knew this; we talked about this and that’s why I wanted you to stay with your Father.”

“What about the other stuff?” They pushed.

Miranda knew straight away which ‘other stuff’ they were referring to. “What did your father say?”

“Mom! We are thirteen, not Amish!” Miranda couldn’t help but smile as she imagined the twin sapphire blues and the trademark Priestly eye-roll that would have accompanied their statement.

“Andrea is very special to me. I’d like both of you to get to know her.”

Again, they spoke in unison. “What if we don’t like her?”

Miranda could tell that they had been through this conversation between themselves and rehearsed what they were going to say. But over the past few days, she too had agonised over how she would even approach the subject. It seemed for once, the media had done her a small favor. “We will deal with that when you come home.” She answered.

“We think it’s time we came home.” Cassidy added.

“Do you? What did you think my response to that statement would be?” Miranda knew that this answer would also be rehearsed and pondered her need to take notes as she quite often did whenever they used this two prong approach.

Cassidy launched the onslaught. “Well first of all, we knew you would be all like totally over-dramatic about safety and how it is an unnecessary risk…”

“…but that’s what you’ve got a bodyguard for, right?” Caroline added as she took over seamlessly from Cassidy like a two man relay team. “We’re missing you like crazy and we miss our friends…” Caroline passed the baton back to Cassidy.

And Cassidy continued “…and we feel that the lack of a classroom based environment has been detrimental to our studies...”

Miranda could just imagine the look on their faces as they successfully delivered each point and it suddenly made her miss them even more than she already was. 

“…And now that you are not going to London this weekend, well it’s been nice to spend the holidays with Daddy, but his cook is terrible and his new girlfriend’s perfume gives Cassidy terrible migraines.” Caroline protested.  

Miranda scribbled a few words on to a note and beckoned Emily silently into her office as she listened to Cassidy take the final stretch of their speech down the home straight.

“…We know you miss us too. So in summary, we feel it would be better for everyone if we simply came home.”

Miranda smiled into the phone. “Let me think about it, my darlings.”

After sitting down at her desk, Emily examined the note and released an exasperated sigh: **Girls. home. Tomorrow!**

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

“They’re coming home tomorrow?” Andy beseeched, with a hint of horror in her tone. Circling Miranda’s desk, she blew out a breath of air in an attempt not to hyperventilate. “What about the case? Are you sure that this is a good idea? Oh god… What if they hate me?” 

Miranda rolled her eyes. She had decided to wait until after dinner that evening before she broached the homecoming with Andrea. The evening had been relaxing and full of idle small talk—something that she found easy to do around the younger woman—she was confident that she had chosen the right time. But, now as she watched the panic-stricken woman in front of her she wished she hadn’t brought it up at all.

As Andrea moved back around the desk, Miranda reached out and pulled the pacing Andrea gently towards her and down on to her lap. “Are you trying to make me dizzy?” She sighed, running her fingers through Andrea’s hair. “Don’t be so over-dramatic!”

Andy sighed at Miranda’s snark, before leaning into kiss her. “Did you just accuse me of being over-dramatic?” She asked incredulously.

“Really Andrea! You know how I loathe repeating myself.” Miranda spoke against Andrea’s lips, responding with a playful smile as she enjoyed their closeness and the banter.

Andy pulled back and cupped Miranda’s face gently between her hands, feeling a little bit calmer. “What did you tell them? You know… about me?” She asked, trying her best to be breezy.When all she was really thinking was: _‘Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out!’_

Miranda watched Andrea’s eyes; filled with the same scared look that she had seen daily when she had been in the hospital. She could read her emotions like a book.  

A lot had happened over the past couple of weeks, although it had become blatantly apparent to both of them that they had each spent the past two years yearning for the same thing—in reality they both knew that having what they wanted could never be an easy journey.

As Miranda stared into Andrea’s beautiful brown eyes, she knew that whatever they had to deal with, it would be worth it in the end.

Wrapping her arms around Andrea’s back, Miranda moved her fingers in gentle, rhythmic movements along her spine. “Well, between the press announcements and my ex-husband, it seems that I didn’t need to tell my children anything that they didn’t already know.”

“Yikes. How were they with it?” Andy winced, preparing to hear about the start of world war three.

“Surprisingly, they were very mature about the whole situation. I was honestly expecting some fireworks.”

Andy ran her hands down Miranda’s arms breaking the embrace and lifted off her lap. “I’m still not convinced.” Andy said, shaking her head.

“Why?” Miranda questioned as she watched Andrea walk across the room and sit down on the sofa.

From her first night in the townhouse, Andy had found the study the most blissfully, relaxing room the house. Every item in the room complemented the next, creating a beautiful and peaceful atmosphere from the dark leather sofa to the wall coverings. Tonight like every night, the large open fireplace, held burning logs, which cracked and creaked in the hearth giving the room heavenly warmth. It was no mystery to Andy, why Miranda chose to spend hours at a time in this room.

“They didn’t exactly make my life easy.” Andy grimaced, feeling uncomfortable about the conversation; they were in undiscovered territory here.

Feeling the loss the contact between their bodies, Miranda stood from her chair and joined Andrea on the sofa. “I am not oblivious to the fact that my daughters can be difficult.”

“I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.” Andy interrupted, concerned that she had offended Miranda.

“If you let me finish?” Miranda spoke gently, placing her hand under Andrea’s chin forcing her to look her in the eyes. “I am not oblivious to the fact that my daughters can be difficult. But which teenager isn’t?” She shrugged. “I admit they lead an over-privileged life, but it is a life I have worked hard for. I want to be able to protect them and most importantly ensure that they are never exposed to the type of childhood I had. Believe me when I say, that there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for them.” Miranda brushed a strand of hair from Andrea’s face and tucked it tenderly behind her ear before continuing. “But! The fact is, if they expect me to treat them as young adults then I expect them to behave as such. Ultimately that means respecting my life choices.”

An uncontrollable smile spread across Andy’s face as the words landed. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” She beamed.

Miranda leaned forward to place her lips softly against Andrea’s. “I don’t believe you have.” Miranda flirted. “Please continue.”

Andy had never been with anybody who could turn her on with just their voice, but it seemed to be something that Miranda achieved without effort. Closing the gap between their bodies Andy deepened the kiss. She ran her tongue along Miranda’s bottom lip, waiting for her to part them before slipping her tongue inside her mouth.

“You are incredible.” Andy breathed her worshiping words between kisses. “Sensational.” She added, as her lips teased against Miranda’s lips, jaw line and neck. “Breathtaking… Mind-blowingly-sexy.” She husked.

Miranda moaned as Andrea ran her tongue along her neck and sucked on her pulse point. Miranda ran her fingernails down Andrea’s back and felt her body arch up from her touch.

“I want you so much.” Andy whispered as she felt Miranda shiver.

Miranda knew that she didn’t just mean those words in the moment. She knew that Andrea meant forever. “I love you.” Miranda whispered, her words were barely audible but she knew that they had been heard as Andrea moved back to her lips, sealing the declaration with a kiss.

In the past, those three little words had driven fear into Miranda’s soul, now she felt them flow from her mouth like the rivers to the sea.

The next few hours were spent lost in love and lust. The outside world disappeared and nothing else mattered as long as they had each other.

Slowly the exhaustion began to take control and Miranda relaxed into Andrea’s loving embrace. The sweat glistened on their entangled limbs reflecting the light from the dancing flames in the hearth and they slowly drifted off to sleep in front of the fire.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moore beamed brightly at his colleague who held out a steaming hot cup of coffee. “Hey Bea, to what do we owe this honor?” He signed a sheet of paper in his hand and handed the clipboard back to an immaculately dressed police officer at his side.

The tall dark officer thanked the Captain and nodded to greet the District Attorney before excusing himself. 

“Bobby, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” She urged.

He took the cup from her extended arm and gestured towards his office. “Sure thing! Let’s go.”

As the door closed behind her, Sharpe was suddenly reminded why she didn’t come down to Bobby’s shared office very often. The unpleasant odour was a testament to the last time the inside of the office had seen a Janitor. Pizza boxes and polystyrene cartons overflowed from the trash can and used coffee cups filled the two desks.

“You guys live like pigs!” She exclaimed in disgust, waving her hand at the state of the room.

“I know it’s a fucking hole! Why do you think I always come to you?” Moore grinned as he sat behind his desk and Sharpe lowered herself tentatively into the chair opposite.

“What’s on your mind?” Moore asked before taking a gulp of his coffee. He winced in pleasurable-pain as the hot liquid hit the back of his throat and move through his body.

“Guess who I spoke to today—and escaped with all my limbs intact?” Sharpe simpered.

 “Priestly?” Moore didn’t need any clues.  Miranda Priestly had been the fly in the D.A’s ointment of late and he knew that she wouldn’t have rested until she got the bottom it all. “How did you get the court order?” Moore responded eagerly, leaning forward on his chair.

“No need, I just made an appointment.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

He could see that she was quite proud of herself and he smiled warmly at her attempt to be blasé. “You are one tough broad” Moore laughed, taking another gulp of his coffee. “Did you get what you needed?”

“For now.” She nodded. “Let’s just say it was surreal.” She had made a promise to Miranda, what was said in that room would stay in that room, all Moore needed to know was that she was innocent.

“How so?” Moore gripped the arms on his chair and leaned forward in his seat with the most ridiculous grin on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sharpe rolled her eyes in exasperation, as she looked for something remotely sanitary on his desk that she could throw at him. “Seriously, Bobby? Don’t be an ass.”

“Oh come on, you know I’m just playing.” He teased, whilst trying desperately not to smirk.

“Yeah right!” Sharpe rolled her eyes again but this time with a smile. “What I do know is that she really has nothing to do with this. I can’t begin to explain how relieved I feel about that.”

“How do you know she is telling you the truth?” Moore quizzed. Deep down he knew he didn’t need to ask, it was just habit.

“I trust her.” She answered, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes.

In the interest of protecting themselves and each other, their professional relationship meant that there was always a need to keep certain details close to the chest. Over the years they had developed an unspoken understanding, thus was the strength and the trust of their working relationship. 

“I got a statement from Andrea Sachs too.” Sharpe explained, grinning very much like the cat that got the cream.

“Do I want to know how you got the Wicked Witch to lower the drawer bridge?” He pushed. However, when saw the look on Sharpe’s face and he guessed that maybe he had gone too far with his boorish comment. “I’m sorry that was uncalled for.” He apologised.

“Just ease up on Miranda, alright?” Moore nodded “I had quite an illuminating conversation with Miss Sachs. Here…” Beatrice threw a file towards Moore, carefully avoiding the minefield of old coffee cups strewn about his desk.

Moore took a couple of minutes to scan the scribed interview. “Eddie Curran, the Editor of The Post?”

“Oh yes.” Sharpe folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “Turns out Mr. Curran has quite a colourful history. I ran him through the C.H.R.S database. He should have been hitting our radar for sometime but mysteriously, he has never set-off any alarms downtown. I think we both know why.”

Closing the file Moore placed it on the desk in front of him and locked eyes with Sharpe. “This is one hell of a can of worms you are about to open here Bea! We’ve almost put the case to bed. Are you sure you want to pursue this?” Moore steepled his fingers and pressed his hands to his mouth, awaiting her response.

Sharpe sat stock-still and fixed her glare on Moore, looking for the words, which had momentarily escaped her. “For Christ’s sake, Bobby! Sometimes I don’t think you even know me at all?” The anger flashed in her eyes as she lifted from her seat losing her usual stonewall façade.

“Hey...” Moore called to her gently as he stood from his chair and moved around to where she was. “Hey?” He called again, pleading with her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and one under her chin, tenderly holding her in his eye line. “I’m sorry. It was a foolish thing to say. I do know you, I know you better than anyone and I know that if you need to take this all the way then I’m here.”

She nodded and in moment of weakness she allowed him to pull her into his body, wrapping his strong arms around her.

It had been just over seven years since their first case together and as Sharpe recalled they had instantly disliked each other. The problem was that they were too alike, both stubborn and opinionated. Nevertheless, with their passion and integrity for the job, it didn’t take long for the animosity to turn into respect.

Over the years, their respect had turned into a working friendship, which had slowly developed into a silent dependency. One acting as the rock for the other midst the rubble of mistrust, in a job layered with deception and paranoia.  

Despite the rumors of the romantic extent of their relationship across the department, they had never crossed that line. The bond had formed over the myriad of intense cases and beyond. They moved to acting as the constant strong shoulder to lean on as their respective personal lives had fallen apart and spilled into their work.

On several occasions over the years, the line between them had blurred and tonight, again, they were both having problems keeping focus on the mark.

Moore pressed a gentle kiss to Sharpe’s temple and she felt him breathe in her scent. It felt good, both safe and right as she relaxed in his arms. Basking in the safety of his embrace, her decision to be alone for so long weighed heavily on her heart. She didn’t want to feel empty anymore but she was afraid of being hurt.

Sharpe lifted her head and looked up into his stormy grey eyes. She held his stare as he slowly dipped his head and placed his lips gently against hers. The kiss was warm and tender and everything she needed right there and then. But, as he pulled her body tighter into his and moved to deepen the kiss, she felt the reality and potential consequences of the situation hit her suddenly and she pulled back from his arms. 

“Bea?” He pleaded as he reached for her. “I’m sor...”

Torn between the tides of fear pulling her away and the desire to protect the lost little boy she saw before her, Sharpe stopped his apology and whispered to him. “Bobby.” She stepped forward to place her hand on his face. “I love you, I will always love you. But this can never happen, do you understand?”

Moore closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “That’s just it. I don’t.” He kept his eyes closed and furrowed his brow in confusion as he tried desperately to understand.

“I can’t deal with this now, Bobby. Please?” She pleaded with him, begging him to let it go.

As they locked eyes once more, they each knew what they were sweeping under the carpet, they starred at each other with the mutual understanding to move again, perhaps not forward, but at least together.

The kaleidoscope had changed in the moment and they now had to fortify themselves for the storm ahead. The picture before them needed focus and a crime needed to be solved.

“Tell me what you need me to do with Curran.” Moore urged resolutely.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy woke with a start, after escaping the jaws of another monstrous dream. She was surprised and a little disappointed to find herself alone on the soft rug, covered with a blanket. The dying embers glowed in the hearth and she felt the gentle heat as she lifted her body awkwardly to look around the room.

She found Miranda sitting in her silk robe at her desk across from Andy. Her silhouette was framed in the soft light of the lamp and Andy took a moment to watch her.

Seemingly lost in the pages of _The Book_ , Miranda jumped slightly as she heard Andrea’s voice.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Andy husked as she stood stiffly from the floor and wrapped the blanket around her body.

Miranda looked up sharply in the direction of Andrea’s voice before she took off her reading glasses and rubbed the back of her neck. “No. Did I wake you?”

“No you didn’t.” Andy said as she got up and walked around to lean on the side of the desk. “But I wish you had.”

“Are you ok?” Miranda asked with concern as she turned to face her. 

“Just dreams. They can’t hurt me, right?” Andy shrugged.

She pulled the blanket around herself tightly, partly to take off the chill in the room but mostly in search of the security that she needed to rid the thoughts from her mind. She moved over to the couch and eased herself gently into the soft seat before forcing out the bad air still left over from her dream. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“That is a dangerous pastime where you are concerned.” Miranda jibbed, noting Andrea’s not-so subtle change of subject, away from the dreams.

“I’ve been thinking.” Andy repeated, leaning forward, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulder. “That I have been hidden away in here for two weeks and whilst I am certainly grateful for the respite. I think I need to face up to the fact that I can’t hide forever. Plus,” she joked, “I really don’t want to become some crazy recluse who has twenty cats and gets paranoid about looking at the squirrels in central park incase they make eye contact.”

Miranda held back the eye-roll that would normally have followed such a flippant comment. She paused for a moment and looked over at Andrea on the couch; she seemed so small against its huge frame. The earthy brown colors of the blanket; were such a contrast to the pale white skin that seemed to dance in the flickering light of the dying fire. 

“I thought we agreed that this was the best place for you to be until we could have some assurances that you would be at least safe to cross the street?” She reasoned.

“I know, I know and still agree with that.” Andy spoke as she moved her hands in time with the voicing of her concerns. “It’s just I haven’t checked on my apartment and my mail. I haven’t even replaced my cell phone and we still haven’t been able to reach my parents. What if they have been calling me, leaving messages?”

Miranda stood from her desk, and wrapped her robe tightly around her body. The couch dipped gently as she sat beside Andrea and took her worrying hands into her own. “I really don’t understand why you insist on keeping these little things inside your head, worrying about them until they manifest into huge problems. Really, Andrea. You are going to give yourself an ulcer. Next time, just talk to me. Ok?”

 Andy shrugged again and smirked. “I guess I just need to get used to having someone around to take care of me.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Miranda quipped, raising an eyebrow to point to Andrea’s bandaged shoulder.

Andy crinkled her nose at the incredulous accusation and watched as Miranda got up from the sofa to retrieve her cell phone.

“Who are you calling? It’s two in the morning.” Andy asked, shocked by Miranda’s sudden action. 

“Emily!” Miranda announced into the receiver. “Get me a replacement for Andrea’s cell phone by courier for the morning. Have all of her mail redirected to the townhouse until further notice and have the telephone company set up a pin number so that she can retrieve the messages from her apartment. That’s all.”

Andy was mortified as she listened to Miranda reel off the instructions, to the woman on the other end of the phone. There were no barriers in Miranda’s world; there was nothing that she couldn’t achieve with a simple phone call, it was surreal. However it wasn’t Miranda’s efficiency that had horrified Andy, it was the fact that she knew first hand exactly what it took to break through those barriers, the sacrifices that had to be made and many bodies you had step over to achieve the tasks.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Andy shook her head.  

Her tone was hostile and Miranda felt the momentary sense of achievement drain away as she saw the abhorrent look on the younger woman’s face. “Nonsense.” She dismissed.

“No, it’s not nonsense. This is important to me.” Andy seethed. “You tell me, not five minutes ago, to talk to you but you didn’t even give me the same courtesy before you picked up that phone. You didn’t need to call Emily it could have waited until the morning.”

“No, what you told me Andrea was that you were worried about something and that something was completely in my control to fix. Which is what I did? I pay my staff to be at my beck and call and if I need something that is exactly what I do, I call them. You proclaim to know me. What is problem here?”

Miranda’s tone was eerily calm yet deadly. Andy was not as practised in holding her composure as Miranda. She felt belittled, she was angry and she knew that whatever came out of her mouth now was going to be venomous. Nevertheless, she had started this and she was determined to get her point across.

“Don’t patronize me, Miranda. I meant what I said, if anything I’m proving that right now. Don’t you see that? You pay your staff to run after you and meet your every whim. That’s you, you have earned everything you have, and I am not denying you any of it. But, I haven’t earned any of that, it’s not mine to take. I knew this, our relationship was never going to be a walk in the park and that we would have many differences to overcome but I don’t think I realised just how many there were. You just made me feel like a fraud Miranda.”

Andrea’s heart sank as she watched Miranda’s face grow colder and more distant through her speech _. ‘Maybe I overreacted?’_ She thought. _‘Or, maybe she needs to know what my boundaries are?’_

Miranda was no stranger to this; she’d had this conversation many times before, in one form or another. The difference was, in those previous conversations with husbands, lovers and so-called friends; she would have gone in for the kill and shown no mercy, without a second thought. Andrea was different though, she didn’t want to hurt her. But, she just was not ready to admit that she was wrong or to back down—as this was fundamentally against her nature. But she had never been here before, this was new to her and she just didn’t know to do. In her mind, the safest thing to do at that moment was to walk away.

“I think it’s time I went to bed. Good night Andrea.” Miranda stated coldly.

“God, damn it, Miranda, don’t walk away from me.” Andy warned.

“I said Goodnight.” Miranda affirmed.

Andy watched as Miranda left the room. She considered following her but common sense prevailed. Something inside had pushed Andy to test the water, but instead of dipping her toe into the shallow end she had stupidly jumped right into the deep. She realised now that Miranda had thrown her a life raft by leaving, if she had pushed it any farther she could have drowned in her own self-righteousness.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

District Attorney Sharpe and Captain Moore watched their suspect from behind the one-way glass as they sipped their umpteenth coffee of the morning.

“He looks twitchy; I love it when they’re twitchy.” He scowled.

Sharpe studied her wristwatch. _‘Christ, it feels later than six-thirty.’_ She thought. “Where did you pick him up?”

“ _The Post_. He was sleeping in his office.” He confirmed as he handed her an inch thick file. “We’ve got call records, bank statements, off shore accounts and some very dodgy tax slips.”

Sharpe flicked through the folder. “What did you get from Vice?”

“It’s all there: who he drinks with, his contacts, and his informants. This guy’s well connected.” Moore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tilted his head from left to right, hearing and feeling the bones grind and the tendons click in his neck. He had been here before, countless cases that had drained his body and soul, to the point of emptiness. This case was no different. He looked across at District Attorney Sharpe as she fastidiously thumbed through the pages of the file and he couldn’t help himself from smiling. She was his reserve tank and even on this tough morning he could take comfort in the strength of their teamwork.

She looked up briefly and caught his gaze. “What?” She smiled back at his infectious affectionate stare.

He shook his in response. “Nothing.”

She closed the file and placed her hand on his shoulder. “How you find the energy to front that goofy smile at this time in the morning is beyond me. I can only assume that you have finally lost your marbles.” She teased and bumped his arm with her shoulder.

She had thought long and hard about their ‘discussion’ the night before, she had been dreading the fact that she would need to see him again so soon. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to see him; instead she knew deep down inside that it was the fear of what she had lost. She had all but convinced herself that she had ruined their friendship and thrown away any chance they might have had of more. She was thankful however as she looked into his eyes and saw as clear as day that everything was fine.

She gave his arm a second bump and looked down at her watch again. “Ok, we’ve got forty-seven hours to break this. I think we’ve got more than enough here to charge to him with tax evasion but I want more.” 

Moore nodded and straightened his tie. He gulped down the last of his coffee and took the file from her hands. “Time for me to go and do what I do best then, isn’t it?”                

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roy waited patiently on the curb holding the car door open for Miranda as she strolled down the steps from the townhouse. Her BlackBerry® was pressed firmly to her ear, the latest Marc Jacob’s bag was thrown over her shoulder and Spencer the Bodyguard followed a close step behind.

The bitter air was enough to take her breath away and she hoped—for Carrie’s sake—that her coffee would be waiting for her when she got in the office. “I want to be there to meet them from the airport.” She demanded into her cell phone. “If you can’t rearrange the meetings Emily, then I would suggest you clear your desk and make your way down to the HR department. That’s all.” She shook her head and puffed out a frustrated breath. _‘Why am I surrounded by incompetence?’_

Settling in her seat, she took a deep breath and released it slowly, allowing her to regain her composure. She had not slept one wink and she had not spoken to Andrea that morning before leaving the house. Their conversation from the previous night was still fresh in her mind and needless to say, she was not in the best of moods. Deep down she knew that she could have done things differently; she could have handled the situation better. But quite frankly, she was unwilling to admit that she was one hundred percent in the wrong. Miranda hated leaving anything unresolved but as always, her stubbornness had won out and she had simply walked away from the situation, convinced that a little time and space would give them both time to reflect and a remedy would present itself. 

It was a morning like any other, the early upper-east side traffic was slow and steady, the route the same as every morning, where the detail got lost in familiarity and routine. They had been on their journey for just under ten minutes when the routine was interrupted quite suddenly.

A jerk to the steering of the car startled Miranda. She felt the pull of the acceleration and heard the growl of the engine as the car suddenly picked up pace.

The privacy screen that had divided the car was rolled down to reveal the two men in the front of the vehicle. “Roy? What’s happening up there?” Miranda called out.

Spencer turned to face Miranda. “Ms. Priestly I suggest you put your seat belt on.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

Miranda felt the acceleration increase and the urgency in Spencer’s request as she reached for the seat belt and clipped it into the socket. “What’s happening?” She repeated, but much to her annoyance the question was ignored over the chatter of Spencer’s earpiece.

“This is Whiskey Sierra two-four-niner, moving west on 72nd Street at sixty miles per hour. Over.” Miranda watched her bodyguard intently as he fed his instructions and commands to both Roy and his radio. The car continued at the increased speed making sharp jerks, forward and side-to-side. The adrenaline soaked fear rushed through Miranda and she gripped firmly on to the handle above the door and tightly on to her cell phone.

After receiving what appeared to be another instruction in his earpiece, Miranda listened to Spencer relay his update into the radio.

“Affirmative. Hostile has been identified, Black Sedan on our tail, with no visible plates. Requesting support and immediate back up. Over.”  

She spun around in her seat and looked out the back of the blacked out window, scanning the scene. There it was, the car like a huge Panther chasing down its prey, baring its teeth before it went in for the kill, just metres away.

Miranda opened her mouth to plead for an explanation but just as she was about to speak she was cut-off by the shout from the front seat.

“SHIT!” Roy cursed uncharacteristically. “Hold on, Miranda!” He shouted.

She felt the juddering force and the grind on the axel as the car mounted the high curb, narrowly avoiding the stationary car in front. She watched as Roy quickly manoeuvred back on to the road, the force slamming her back in her seat. She gripped the seat in front and strained to lean forward to look out the windscreen where she could see the busy crossroad up ahead, streaming with the early morning traffic.

“Spencer?” Roy shouted, looking for the guidance he needed to continue. His usual state of calm rippled with anticipation. If Miranda didn’t know her driver better she could have sworn that his voice was laced with hysteria.

“Punch it.” Spencer instructed without hesitation, his voice was low and strong despite the increasing chaos of the situation.

Roy sucked in a deep lungful of air and nodded resolutely. The 235 Horse-powered engine roared as he took Spencer’s lead and pushed the pedal to metal.

“My god.” Miranda cried out as every muscle in her body tightened in anticipation and she squeezed her eyes tight shut. _‘This is not going to be pretty!’_ She told herself as her perfectly manicured fingernails involuntarily cut into her palm.

The first blow came from left and suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Miranda felt the impact as the car’s velocity instantly changed direction and her internal organs felt like they were being thrown from one side of her body to another. Then came the spinning—the sensation reminded her of a wild fair ground ride she had braved as a child—as the car spun 180 degrees.

Another shout punctuated by the next impact came seconds later as the Mercedes was lifted like a toy from the ground. Miranda’s stomach lurched as the car flipped into the air and the sensation of weightlessness filled her body. She could hear glass shattering all around her, which only served to heighten the danger she felt. It was all out of her control, the only thing left to do was hold her breath and brace for the landing.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moore observed his suspect from across the table. To the untrained eye, Eddie Curran was a wall of calm, but Captain Moore was no rookie, he could see the splintered cracks in the man, running all the way through to the core. So many things about him didn’t seem to add up and it gave Moore an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The many victims—the innocent and the not so innocent—of this current case file, flashed through Moore’s mind as he looked the Editor up and down. ‘Maybe this man was innocent,’ he considered, ‘but then maybe not.’ One thing was clear; he had a job to do. He needed to understand how was Curran involved. Find out what was he doing here. To do that he would need to break through the cracks. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but... Beatrice was counting on him.

The second floor interview rooms of the NYPD were notorious across the state. Small and poorly lit they held a lingering and gut turning stench of stale smoke. Designed to make the suspect feel smothered and trapped, it was often the undoing of both Criminal and newbie officer. Moore had become hardened to it over the years, it had become his territory, and he always had the home advantage.

Moore clenched his jaw and set his game face, in preparation for battle. He calmly flipped open the thick paper file on to the cold metal table and slowly began to thumb through the pages. Almost instantly, he felt the tension rise across the table as he deliberated over page after page of evidence.

“Look, what is this?” Curran drawled impatiently after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Moore did not respond, he just continued to study the papers in front of him.

After another few moments of silence, Curran tried again. “You’re just sitting there man. Aren’t you supposed to be asking me questions?”

“What about, Mr. Curran?” Spoke Moore absently as he turned another page.

“I don’t know?” Curran sighed frustrated. “Tell me what the hell I’m doing here!”   

Dragging out the tense air, Moore pulled out a group of prints and then paused once more to study them. After inserting another tactical pause, he tossed them across the table towards his suspect. The prints fanned out evenly on the surface and the images told the story of a gruesome crime scene.

“A young girl was shot.” He stated as he slid a picture of Andrea Sachs in front of the man, and kept his voice low and steady.

The image showed a limp and broken body, covered in blood. Her usually pale skin was now eerily grey and she had been strapped to an EMT’s gurney. There were a stream of wires and tubes covering every major area. The picture told a harrowing tale.

“What kind of a monster lets this happen?” Moore asked as he shook his head in disbelief. He pointed to another blood soaked picture from the scene and let his fingertip linger pointedly over the image. He heard Curran’s breath catch in his throat as he caught sight of the image. Capitalizing on the subtle shift of dynamic, he pushed his suspect. “What kind of monster sends a young innocent girl out to meet her death?”

Curran looked down at the pictures and scanned his eyes over the evidence.

Moore saw what he presumed to be guilt flash across the man’s face but the admission was quickly washed away as turned the pictures over and covered them with his large hands. He remained silent and simply fixed his cold stare to the white backing of the photographs.

“Did you know what you were sending her out to when you let her go? Or was she just cannon fodder?” He let the words hang there thick in the silence, observing how Curran swallowed hard and a vein in his temple visibly throbbed. Still, he did not look up from his fixed stare.

Moore revelled as he watched the cracks in Curran’s hardened exterior grow wider with every question. “Or maybe you are just another pawn in the game,” he pushed further, “they say jump and you say how high?”

Like a seasoned fighter dancing on his toes, Moore knew the one-two jabs were working, but he knew they would only get him so far. He knew he needed to get in a few left hooks and land a couple of sneaky uppercuts to really push this to his advantage. Shifting his weight and the weight of his questions, he threw his words like a fist.

“What’s it like to live your life in someone’s pocket? Is it worth it? How do you go home to your wife and children with all that blood on your hands? How do you sleep at night?” Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before Moore got his answer. 

The scraping of the chair legs on the tiled floor sounded like finger nails moving down a black board as Curran lifted from his seat in anger. He slammed his hands on the table and scowled with dark eyes at the Captain.

Curran’s body was ridged with anger as Moore stared him down, unflinchingly. “You son of bitch.” Curran spat in distain, before he began pacing. “You don’t know shit.” 

“Well why don’t you sit your ass down and tell me then?” Moore countered, folding his arms across his chest.

“Fuck you.” He retorted, continuing to walk three steps forward and three steps back.

Moore watched the man rub his unshaven jaw with the back of his hand and he caught the sight of pure exhaustion. “No, you’ve already done that to yourself.” He snarked and placed his large rough hands on to the cold grey stainless steel of the table and stood from his chair. Levelling his glare and his voice at the man, he pointed at the abandoned chair. “Now sit the fuck down!” 

The order stopped Curran in his tracks and he returned to his seat. His stare settled on the back on the overturned photographs, the blank backing sheet however, offered no relief as the images were already burned into his brain. Flashes of the innocent girl’s broken body had been on a haunting loop for the past two weeks.

Moore let the silence hang in the room and continued to exude his dominance by standing over his sunken suspect. He returned to the evidence file. The slicing turn of the pages competed with the deafening tick of the clock; the tension was palpable. “Hmmm, this is interesting.” He offered cryptically. “You’re our very own Martha Stewart aren’t you? I wonder if that’s what your cellmates and your prison buddies will call you.” He watched as the bravado of the man began to fade. “Tax fraud, huh? If it’s any consolation, that’s how we got Capone. I’d say we’ve got enough evidence here to guarantee some hard time on the state.” It was as if every word was chipping away at the wall, slowly revealing the defeated man beneath. Moore could feel that he was close.

“Was it the money? Can you tell me that you were able to put a price on her pretty-little head?” Curran looked away as Moore held out another picture this time of the church where Andrea Sachs’ life had been saved. A sea of scarlet red shone up from the page where the camera had captured the pools of blood, which reflected across the marbled aisles. “Did you know that he would hunt her down? Like, she was nothing more than a dirty, rabid animal.”

“I didn’t do this!” Curran snapped again through gritted teeth. “I couldn’t have stopped it.” He almost whispered before sighing. His features softened and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly as if ready to spill his soul but something kept pulling him back into silence.  

Moore saw an opening for compassion and appealed to the fragile man. “Tell me who did, Eddie. I know that you know what happened. If you help me out maybe we can talk about making some of these papers disappear?”

Curran took a deep breath; he knew when he was being played, but he still held a few aces up his sleeve and was intending on playing them all. He leaned forward toward the Captain, and clenched his jaw. “You’re too late.” He smirked. “You can’t stop it.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “It’s too late. Now get me my fucking Lawyer.” He snarled and sat back in his chair folding his arms in defiance.

 _‘Fuck!’_ Moore cursed internally, frustrated and disappointed at the forced halt to questioning. He gritted his teeth and smiled bitterly at the man, giving himself a split second to regain his steely composure. Curran’s words looped around in his head, he’d backed the man into a corner and tested the suspect’s strengths and weaknesses. Some guys caved under the pressure but some came out fighting, Moore was not entirely surprised to see that Curran was a fighter. The words concerned him, had they just been empty threats or were they filled with meaning? Moore couldn’t be sure.

Standing from his chair, he was careful not show his disappointment. He picked up the file and pulled out another set of prints; fresh images of the other bloody crime scenes that were associated with the corruption case. “I’ll just leave you with these. Maybe they’ll give you something to think about whilst I’m gone.” He threw the pictures on to the table and left the room.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy stared at her empty laptop screen, the cursor blinked in the top left hand corner waiting patiently for her to start typing. “Arrrrgggg!” Andy grumbled crinkling up her nose and slamming the lid closed. “Stupid thing!”

She moaned, not quite sure who she was calling stupid. She felt stupid that she had let Miranda leave before they had resolved their fight from the night before. In fact now she felt really stupid that she had even started it.

She looked around the room and her eyes landed on the soft rug, where just a few hours ago she had been wrapped in her lovers’ arms, lost in her eyes. Miranda had done so much for her; her generosity had been beyond belief and her love unquestionable. The pang of remorse gripped her heart like a vice and she wished that she could take it all back. She shook her head in frustration. ’”Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” She cursed behind clenched teeth.

 

Leaning back in the chair, she stretched awkwardly, and winced as the pull in her shoulder reminded her once again that she was not as invincible as she had once thought she was.

Andy rubbed her fingers gently over her shoulder, trying to sooth the deep burning sensation around the healing wound and took a deep breath before pushing her chair back to stand up from behind Miranda’s desk. She had made up her mind. She would have some breakfast and then work on what she was going to say to Miranda to fix the mess she had made.

As if on cue she felt and heard her stomach growl and she looked at the clock. _‘Time for breakfast.’_ Andy confirmed, wondering where Juliana was. Normally the housekeeper, would have brought her a tray up by now or at least called to her. Andy tutted to herself. _‘God, I am getting lazy!’_ She moaned again _. ‘And, definitely over-indulging in self-pity.’_ She tutted again before walking down the hall _._

Leaning over the banister, Andy listened for any sounds from the kitchen. “Juliana?” Andy called out; waiting a few seconds but there was no answer. She rolled her eyes and began her descent of the staircase. “Juliana?” She called again. But there was still no answer. As she reached the bottom step Andy paused again to listen but it was silent.                   

Something didn’t feel right. The routine in the house had been the same everyday for two weeks. There should be music or a TV playing as Juliana moved around the kitchen. There should be radio chatter coming from the lounge where the Bodyguard sat between patrols of the house. Something wasn’t right.

She moved off the bottom step and walked gingerly along the hall towards the kitchen door. “Juliana? Are you there?” Andy felt her hand trembling as she pushed the door gently, her trepidation was suddenly overtaken by the fear of uncertainty as she met resistance. There was something blocking the door. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three P’s. That’s what they taught the cadets in the academy: Preparation, Persistence and Patience. These were the keys to a successful interrogation. It took skill to be able to control the keys and not everyone was suited to it, those cops who didn’t make the grade spent their lives on traffic duty or worse still stuck behind a desk.

Sharpe had studied Moore throughout the morning, from behind the one-way glass. This was his forte, and she knew he would break this man… eventually.

It had taken over an hour for Curran’s lawyer to arrive; the wait had been a setback to the inroads that Moore had made. But now with the opposing counsel, Mr. John Ryks, Jr, fully debriefed it was time for Sharpe to join the interrogation.

Sharpe had met John Ryks, Jr, only once before as opposing counsel. He was highly successful and had recently made it as a Partner in his firm, Clifford, Chase and Avery. However, his tactics were not well respected in their professional circle and Sharpe had not been overly surprised to see him representing their suspect.

Curran had been given time to compose and gather his thoughts and now that his lawyer was at his side, he didn’t seem so fragile. In fact quite the opposite, he now had an air of ease and assurance about him that left Moore with quite a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sharpe sat down in her seat and pulled her body close the table. She sat squarely to face their suspect and mirrored Moore’s position, creating a united front. “Mr. Curran,” she began, “I would like to know how you became involved with this case.”

“I am not involved.” Curran answered.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you there. You see, I have it written in here…” Sharpe pointed to the closed file on the desk. “…in my efficient little report. That, you are a known associate of at least four of the officers who have been arrested for murder, narcotics and illegal weapons, the list goes on and on.”

“I repeat. I am not involved.” Curran answered coldly and turned to look at his lawyer who nodded in agreement at his response.

Moore knew that his suspect had been coached; he was a different man, calm and steady as a rock. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to break him sooner; now, he felt it would like starting over at square one. 

“Do you recall how you became involved with these men?” Sharpe pushed her question again and laid out the pictures of the Officers, O’Hanlon, Corelli, Baum and Riley, neatly on the table.

Ryks, Jr, answered for the man. “District Attorney Sharpe, my client has already stated that he does not know these men.”

“Well that is odd, because I’ve got at least half a dozen witnesses who say otherwise.” 

Curran did not respond to her statement, but Sharpe knew that it had stirred some emotion as she saw the corners of his mouth curl up slightly into what appeared to be a grin. She could only describe it as sinister as she felt a shiver run down her spine in response to his action. 

“What about the money?” Moore asked as he picked up the file and thumbed through until he came to some sheets of paper that were highlighted with red marker pen.

“I’m sure I don’t know what money you are talking about.” Curran responded again dryly.

“Are you saying that these accounts do not belong to you, Mr. Curran?” Moore asked laying the papers in front of the man.

“I have never seen them before in my life.” Curran assured.

“For the record,” Moore spoke to the digital recorder, “please note that the interviewee has denied all knowledge of the bank accounts that were opened with two forms of his ID and his signature.”

“So what was the deal?” Sharpe interjected. “Was it money for stories, propaganda and power? You scratch their backs, if they scratch yours?” She paused and waited for a response.

“So which one of you is supposed to be the good cop and which one is supposed to be the bad one?” Curran smirked.

“Ah, that old chestnut.” She answered jovially before turning her head to Moore with a smirk. She let the smirk fall and she turned back to her suspect, applying venom to her words. “Neither one of us is going to play nice, Mr. Curran, not until you start telling us what we want to know. Now let’s start again. How did you get involved with the aforementioned men?”

Curran looked up at the clock on the wall and then back down into the faces of his interviewers.

“My colleague asked you a question.” Moore reminded his suspect firmly. 

Curran looked up at the clock again before responding. “You’re too late.”

 “We’ve got all the time in the world. We can keep you here for as long as it takes.” Moore added.

“But it won’t matter,” Curran stated cryptically. “You’re too late.”

There was a knock on the door and a uniformed officer entered the room and apologized for interrupting. He leaned in towards Sharpe and whispered to her so that no-one else in the room could hear. Sharpe stood up calmly and excused herself from the room.

“I wonder how much time you are going to get,” Moore pondered, stalling while his interview partner was out of the room. “I wonder how many of your fellow inmates will know who you are when you get in there. I don’t suspect you will be popular.”

Curran smiled a toothy grin and looked up at the clock again. “Really, Captain? How do you think you are you going to up hold a case without any witnesses?”

Ryks leaned into his client immediately to silence him. But the smile remained on Curran’s face.

Just as Moore was about to speak, Sharpe re-entered the room. Moore noticed the, ‘I’m pretending everything is fine, but everything is not fine’ look on her face.

“Captain Moore, would you join me outside for a moment please.” Sharpe requested, trying to steady the urgency in her tone.

Moore paused the interview and followed Sharpe from the room. Frustrated in halting their progress but equally curious as to what had made Beatrice so full of angst.

“He’s up to something.” Moore muttered with clenched teeth as soon as they entered the hall. “He’s playing us but he’s definitely got something to say?” 

Sharpe took Moore by the arm and led him along the corridor away from the occupied interview room. “I think I know what.” She began to explain. “Dispatch received a call about twenty minutes ago reporting gunfire on 45th in Union City.”

“That’s over the river.” Moore stated, puzzled as to the relevance.

“Yeah, but what’s there?” She quizzed. “Or should I say who is there?”

Moore racked his tired brain for less than a second. “Jesus Christ, we’ve got a safe house there.”

“Yeah, the EMTs on the scene have confirmed that Maria Rodriguez was DOA.”

Moore exploded in anger. “THAT FUCKER!” He cursed, as he slammed his closed fist into the wall and began pacing. “He knew… he knew that there was a hit going down.”

“That’s not all, Bobby.” Sharpe sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I’ve got them checking upstairs, but so far there has been no response from the other four locations.” 

Moore stilled his angry pacing. “What about Sachs?”

Sharpe simply shook her head.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Juliana? Juliana answer me!” Andy called waveringly as she pushed to squeeze her body through the small gap in the door.

Juliana was chest down on the floor; all Andy could see was blood everywhere. She knelt down at the house keeper’s side and felt the blood soaking into her jeans. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Andy chanted as she leaned over the lifeless body. Her shaky fingers slipped against the skin of the woman’s throat, desperately searching for a pulse. The pounding of her own heartbeat in her head made it hard to focus on any other sounds or sensations. But then it hit her, the true horror of the situation. She realized why she couldn’t find a pulse, why her fingers were covered in the thick wet blood. Juliana’s throat had been cut, she was dead.

Andy pulled her hands away in shock and scrambled back on her hands and knees until she felt the cold kitchen cabinet at her back. She closed her eyes and fought to control her breathing. ‘ _Calm down, calm down._ ’ She thought, before Miranda’s face flashed before her eyes. _‘She’s not here. I watched her leave, thank, God. When?’_  She looked at her watch _. ‘Ok, thirty minutes. I saw her leave with Spencer. But, who took over from Spencer in the house? Who is on duty today?’_  Andy shook her head in frustration. _‘I don’t know!?’_ She scolded herself internally, trying to shake her thoughts into order _._

She lifted herself up slowly, trying not to slip on the soaked tile floor with her bare feet and then scanning her eyes over the kitchen counter for the house phone. To her dismay; it was no-where to be seen.

The reality of the situation washed over her, she had seen one too many slasher-flicks to know that she needed to get out of the house. But now as her body shook with fear, she knew that thinking it and doing it were two completely different things. Finding the courage to move was harder than she’d imagined it would be. Andy concentrated on her breathing and tried to sort her head into rational thought.

A creaking floorboard in the room above the kitchen, made Andy freeze on the spot. _‘Think!’_ She screamed internally.

The house phones were normally situated in the kitchen, the lounge and the library. The closest exits were the front door and the basement. Everything in her brain was telling her to get out of the house, so now all she had to do was convince her body to move.

She pulled Juliana gently away from the door—which allowed her to move through more easily—and she paused to listen again for any sounds in the house, it was silent.

A wave of semi-relief washed over her as she laid her eyes on the front door, not twenty feet from where she stood. But then the dread flooded back in as she moved forward. Her feet were sticky from all the blood and the sound that her footsteps made on the wooden floor seemed one hundred times magnified in the silence of the house. Suddenly the twenty foot distance felt like twenty miles. 

The front door, the door that had taunted Andy during the late night drop-offs in her tenure as Miranda’s second assistant. The fiddly, squeaky deadbolt and creaky floor boards that were hidden like landmines around the exit were all that stood between her and her freedom. She paused and took a deep breath, then not for the first time that morning she tried to convince her feet to move.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps on the landing above her, made Andy jump. She pressed her back firmly against the wall, hidden from the view over the banister and felt her heart sink like a stone in the sea as the sound moved closer. As the foot steps approached the top of the stairs, her heart was beating so loud and so fast that she could barely hear her own thoughts, Andy knew she had no choice but to hide.  

Unable to bear the thought of seeing Juliana’s lifeless body again, she took a chance and headed straight to the lounge. Her shaking hands pushed the door slowly and tentatively she stepped inside.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room. “Thank God.” She whispered as she spotted the cordless phone on the coffee table near the window. Hurriedly she moved forward but froze suddenly as something else caught her eye. “Ohhhh…” She whimpered in a half sob, as the pure gravity of the situation began to take hold.

Andy now knew the answer to her earlier question. Jake was on security duty today. She knew this because he was lying before her on the carpeted floor, in a pool of his own blood.

Sweet Jake. He had spent the previous week at Runway, dutifully bound to the highly strung English woman. It was just yesterday that she had been laughing and joking with him as they had compared their Emily stories.

In that moment, she considered the fact that she might be dreaming, trapped in one of her hellish nightmares. She closed her eyes and begged herself to wake up.

A pained groan from the body on the floor snapped her back to reality. She gasped in hope as she realized that he was still alive. “Jake?” She whispered rushing to his side. “Can you hear me?” She cupped her hands around his face and forced him to open his eyes.

“Andy.” He wheezed. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, kid.”

“Where are you hurt?” She asked scanning over his body.

“You gotta get out of the house.” He instructed, fighting to stay conscious.  

“I tried.” She answered as she ran her hands down his body searching for the injury. The first wound she found was to the shoulder, the second was to his right side just below his rib cage, both gunshot wounds. She had not heard the gunfire and the attacker was skilled enough to strike the two weakest and vulnerable points in Jake’s vest, seemingly with ease. “Tell me who did this.”

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t get a good look at him, I didn’t even see him until it was too late.” His breathing was shallow and forced. “Take my gun.” He insisted as he took her hand. “Call for help and then hide.”

“I can’t leave you here?” Andy pleaded.

“Do it!” He ordered.

She unclipped the holster that housed his 9mm semi-automatic pistol and gripped it soundly in her hand. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s already cocked.” He reached out awkwardly and ran his finger along the side of the firearm and over the moveable clip. “Just remove the safety here and she’s ready.” He nodded at his weapon. “Now get us some help.”

Andy leaned over his body and reached to the coffee table for the phone. She pressed the call button and to her relief she heard the dial tone. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.” She chanted as she dialed 911. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two and a half years after leaving Runway, Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface, the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?

Miranda woke sudden, unsure how long she had been unconscious. She groaned loudly as the sharp sensations stabbed through her body. She felt woozy and her lungs burned as she took short shallow breaths. A myriad of sounds clamoured around her, with the car horns blowing their annoyance in the mid town traffic, the screaming sirens in the distance and closer by the incoherent voices mixing into a low hum. 

As her mind began to refocus, she realised that one of the voices was calling out to her. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

It was a woman’s voice, soft yet firm and she spoke with a sense of urgency that helped Miranda focus. Searching around to pin point the sound, it took Miranda a few moments to realise that she still had her eyes squeezed shut. She opened her eyes and turned her head awkwardly to the left, only to be met with a face full of the limp, rear side-airbag of the Mercedes. Twisting her head to the other side with a pained groan, she let her eyes focus on the young woman, who was reaching into the car. It was at that moment that she realised she was upside down. She was suspended tightly by her seatbelt, the squeezing straps made it feel almost impossible to breathe and gravity was forcing her body awkwardly against the roof of the car.

“Can you move?” The woman asked as the blue lights flashed round her.

Before she could answer, Miranda’s attention was drawn by another groan from the front of the car.

“Miranda?” A familiar voice called from the passenger seat. “Are you ok?”

“I think so.” Miranda affirmed breathlessly to Spencer, who was also still in the vehicle. “What about Roy?” She wheezed concerned about how her long-term driver had fared in the crash. 

“He’s unconscious.” Spencer confirmed, as she heard him struggle to pull himself from the wreckage. “Don’t move Miranda, I’m coming to get you.”

“No!” Miranda ordered, finding her voice again. “I’m fine, help Roy.” She felt a wave of panic wash over her, as soon as she had spoken. The small space began to close in, and she suddenly felt what she imagined claustrophobia to feel like. She reached to her side and shakily unclipped the seatbelt, which was holding her in place. A tearing pain ripped through her side as her body landed heavily and rather ungracefully on the up turned roof.

The woman at her window reached in and gripped her tailored Armani jacket. Miranda felt the strong hands help her to move quickly out of the upturned vehicle. As she crawled forward, the broken glass of the windows nipped at her legs like tiny fire ants and she felt involuntary tears roll down her cheeks in response to the pain running throughout.  

The icy morning wind swirled around her as she landed on the cold, wet concrete road. The previously muffled sounds were suddenly magnified in the open air but the volume was barely noticeable above the sound of her own heartbeat. Taking a simple breath seemed like an impossible task as her lungs burned. Anxiety gripped every muscle in her body, leaving her pinned to the floor and no matter how much she told her body to move it would not co-operate. She looked around and surveyed the chaotic scene, searching for the reassurance she craved. The Mercedes was a mess; torn metal was strewn in all directions. The blue and red lights of the emergency teams filled the street like a cosmic light show and a thick crowd of onlookers had gathered to lap up the carnage.

_‘What had happened?’_

The enormity of the situation seemed too much to take in.

Before Miranda could regain the control she needed to get to her feet, two pairs of strong hands lifted her effortlessly from the ground. Her natural instinct was to show her indignation of the heroic act, but the sharp stab of pain she felt as she waved her arm soon took away that thought. The signature Medusa glare was all that remained as she was placed gently on to a stretcher and into the back of an open ambulance. The young female medical technician, who had pulled her from the car, began checking her vitals. Miranda let the woman work as she scanned the scene, taking in the damage they had caused.

There were three other vehicles, in various states of disarray on the street. Miranda was thankful to see their suspected occupants standing by their respective cars with what appeared to be only minor cuts and bruises. The feeling of relief quickly dissipated as her eyes reached the fire crew at the front of the Mercedes, she felt her heart drop as she realised that they still hadn’t freed Roy from the driver’s seat.

The paramedic cupped Miranda’s face gently with her gloved hand, so that she could shine a light in her eyes. The unexpected action snapped Miranda out of her reverie; the tenderness of the touch washed over her and allowed her to latch back on to reality.

“I need my cellphone.” Miranda stated, with urgency.

“And, I need you to look straight ahead for me, Ma’am.” The paramedic instructed, ignoring Miranda’s request as she shone a small flashlight into Miranda’s eyes and checked each one in turn for any sign of head trauma. Once satisfied, the young woman continued her examination by gently running her fingers over Miranda’s limbs, to ensure that there were no hidden injuries.

Miranda reflexively recoiled from the contact, only to be struck by another flash of searing pain. “Ahhh.” She winced.

“Stay still, for goodness sake.” The Paramedic chastised. She placed her stethoscope into her ears and slid the cold metal disc inside Miranda’s shirt to rest against the top of her breast. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

As she sucked in the air, Miranda felt the pain tear down her side again. “Ohhhh.” She moaned as she released the breath.

The paramedic pulled back and winced in sympathy. “Ouch, huh? Ok, Ma’am. Let’s take off this jacket and take a closer look."

“Please call me, Miranda.” She instructed breathlessly. “I’d prefer to be on first name terms if you are going to continue to roam around my body like that.”

The paramedic smirked. “My name is Angie. I’ll try not to roam around for too much longer.” She responded as she carefully unbuttoned Miranda’s jacket and pushed it gently off her shoulders.

“I think you just went to second base, Angela, which officially takes us out of Ma’am territory.” Angie chuckled and Miranda winced again as the paramedic moved her hands around her fragile rib cage. “And I won’t ask again. I want my cell phone.”

“I didn’t doubt your sincerity for a second.” Angie answered as she looked up to meet her patient’s cold blue eyes, and then continued her examination. “I’m sorry to say that I think you have broken a few ribs, but I just want to make sure there isn’t anything more serious, before we get your cell phone, ok? 

Miranda nodded silently, as she watched Spencer approach the back of the ambulance with one of his security team. 

“Are you ok, Miranda?” He asked with a pained breath.

“I’m…” She hesitated. She was in pain and in that moment she couldn’t be sure where exactly it hurt, she just knew it hurt. “I’ll be fine.” She assured him for the second time that morning. He had blood trickling down the side of his face from a garish cut on his forehead, and he was holding his right arm protectively at the elbow. She pursed her lips at the bloodied security guard. “Sit down before you fall down, Spencer.”

The battered and bruised man sat on the edge of the ambulance entrance, whilst his colleague remained standing.

“What happened?” Miranda asked.

“We don’t know for sure, but we know that this was no accident.”

“I’m not stupid, Spencer. I know this was not accident. I was there remember? Do we know what he wanted?” Miranda paused for his response.  

Spencer shook his head and took a deep pained breath. “I think he wanted to kill you.”

Miranda’s breath caught in her throat, she’d had a pretty clear idea that their attacker had intended to hurt her, but she was left shocked by the bluntness of his words. She took a moment to compose herself and then met his eyes firmly. “I need to speak to Andrea and Emily. I want my cell phone, now.” She demanded.

Spencer asked his colleague to check the wreckage for Miranda’s BlackBerry and then turned back to Miranda.

“Is Roy ok?” Miranda questioned.

“They haven’t got him out yet. His legs are trapped in the foot-well of the vehicle and the EMTs suspect that he has broken his pelvis. He’s awake though and responsive, so I guess that is a good sign.”

Two uniformed police officers and another member of the Proteggere Security team approached the ambulance and Spencer stood to meet them. “Miranda, wait here.” Spencer instructed before he walked over to the group.

Miranda watched as the four men stood in a circle conversing almost conspiratorially. “That doesn’t look good.” Miranda murmured to herself as she observed their conversation.

Angie looked over at the group. “No, it does not.” She agreed. “But hopefully this will make you feel a little more comfortable.” Angie stated as she finished injecting a Fentanyl shot into Miranda’s arm. “It should be just enough to take the edge off.”

“Miranda.” Spencer addressed her softly as he approached again, leaving the group.

She knew from the look on his face and the tone of his voice that something was wrong.

“I need you to stay calm.” He paused and Miranda raised her eyebrow silently protesting his delay. He cleared his throat and continued. “The NPYD have confirmed that a call was placed to 911 from the townhouse approximately ten minutes ago.”

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The blaring sirens merged into one synchronous sound as the convoy streamed across the early morning traffic.

In the passenger seat of the squad car, Captain Bobby Moore flipped open his cell phone to take the incoming call. “We’re just a couple of minutes out, Bea.” He shouted to his caller, over the noise of the siren.

District Attorney Sharpe moved the receiver away from her ear as her call was answered. She was not a stranger to the chase and the drama that accompanied an urgent call. But, she had to admit it had been a long time since they had both been this close to the frontline. Their suspect, Curran had been placed in a cell. He had sealed his fate by flashing his hand of cards. Although Moore and Sharpe didn’t have everything they needed to lock down the prosecution, they certainly had enough to hold him, which meant they could focus on the issue in hand…the key witnesses.

“There’s been a further development, Bobby.” Sharpe shouted over the noise of her own unmarked transportation, making sure she was loud enough to be heard.

“What do you mean further development?” He quizzed, with a sinking feeling that his day had just gone from horrible to the third dimension of hell. Listening to the background noise on the line, the round robin screech of the siren, playing just a second behind his own made his stomach lurch from its position to his throat. “Where are you?”

“Miranda Priestly’s town car has been involved in an RTA. Early reports indicate that they were attacked, which resulted in the crash. The second party fled the scene. I’m headed down there now with Detective Monaghan.”

“Ok, don’t let Priestly out of your sight, you hear me?” He affirmed.

“I had no intention of doing so.” She stated as a matter of fact. “What do we know from the 911 call?”

“The housekeeper is assumed dead, the lone security detail has been shot and Sachs was unharmed at the time of the call. We lost the call, but we are to assume that the intruder is still in the house.”

“Be careful in there, Bobby.” Sharpe didn’t wait for his response before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her nerves and focused on the road ahead. 

  **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Andy pressed the dial button for the third time but it was useless, the phone battery was dead. “Shit!” She cursed. The operator had insisted that she stay on the line but it was out of her hands now. 

She looked across at the injured bodyguard and tried to remind herself that help was on the way. Jake’s breathing was slow and raspy. She could tell that he was having problems drawing a full breath and she could appreciate just how much pain he would be feeling.

Above the sound of his breathing, Andy scanned for any other sounds of movement. During the long days and restless nights, she had grown used to the old house with its creaking bones protesting as the temperature moved up and down, or the sounds of Juliana working in the kitchen and laundry room. Andy felt a lump form in her throat and a single tear ran down her cheek as she pictured the innocent woman lying on the kitchen floor. This was all her fault. _‘Did she have children?’_ She wondered. Andy felt ashamed that she had never taken the time to ask her. She knew that the twins adored the woman. She had been with Miranda since before the twins were born and they were all going to be crushed.

A noise from the room above snapped Andy from her thoughts, it sounded like a thud on the floor of Cassidy’s room. Andy instinctively gripped Jake’s 9mm a little tighter in her hands.

“Jake?” Andy whispered.

“Mmm?” He murmured, half in and out of consciousness.

“Did you hear that?” Andy shook him gently. “Jake? Please don’t go to sleep. Stay with me.” She pleaded, feeling the panic rise again from the pit of her stomach as he murmured incoherently and slipped closer to death’s grip. 

There were two doors into the room, the one from which she had entered, leading to the hallway and stairs. The other door led back to the kitchen and through to the library, the den and the veranda. She had not been out there, due to the cold weather and Miranda had been worried about her catching a chill during her rehabilitation, the latter now seemed a moot point with her current situation, she reasoned. She considered her options, all of which appeared pointless.

_‘What if the doors are locked? Where are the keys? If the doors are unlocked, then I would need to jump at least fifteen feet to the ground. This bum shoulder won’t be strong enough to support a hang and drop and for Christ’s sake, I don’t even have any shoes on!’_

Moreover, there was Jake. She knew couldn’t leave him. She was on her own; she had no option but to wait for the intruder to come to her.

Listening hard she could tell that the unwelcome visitor was getting closer. The old house acted as her ally, hindering any hope the criminal had of a stealthy approach.

Kneeling at Jake’s side, half hidden by the couch, Andy watched as the door opened slowly. A victim of her own imagination, she had been expecting a masked hitman, armed to the teeth. The harsh reality was that she was faced with a man who did not need to hide his face, as his targets never survived to tell.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as his piercing eyes scanned the room. Andy held her breath in anticipation. She raised her shaking arm and aimed the firearm, the movement caught the man’s attention and he rushed forward like lightning. Given no other option, Andy squeezed the trigger and fired the weapon, missing the man by inches. She didn’t expect the force of the shot to be so strong as it threw her wrist back and knocked her off balance.

The man took advantage of the situation and lunged forward tackling Andy.

As she hit the ground, the gun fell from her grip and she felt something hard slam into her face. It took her a second to realise that it was his fist. “No!” Andy screamed, as the man climbed on top of her body, straddling her hips and pinning her to the carpeted floor. She felt a strong hand clamp around her neck as she fought against him, scratching at his face and kicking wildly as she tried to throw him off her body. She watched with terror as he reached for his belt and pulled out a hunting knife from its casing. He smiled sadistically as he teasingly ran the cold blade along her collarbone and down her sternum, blowing his vile hot breath in her face. 

He bent forward and pushed his face into her hair inhaling deeply. “You won’t get away from me this time, Andrea.” He whispered gruffly into her ear.

In the distance, Andy heard the sirens approaching, they were coming to save her, she just hoped they would make it in time.

Try as she might, Andrea couldn’t move from under the weight of her attacker. As he teased the steely knife down over the cloth covering her rib cage, she could see that he was relishing in the power and control that he had over her, it was as if he was feeding off her fear. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jake’s gun on the carpet, she reached out her arm and stretched towards the weapon. Andy screamed in agony as she felt the blunt force of a fist strike her injured shoulder. The tears ran down her face as she sobbed out the pain.

Now that he had her full attention, the man continued his torturous movements, relishing in the power that he yielded over her. He slowly pushed the blade into her side, feeling the futile resistance of the cotton shirt and skin and flesh as the blade slid through each layer like butter.

Andy heard his breath hitch and watched as his pupils dilated like the opening gates of hell.  Her scream of agony was fractured by short sobs as she tried to breathe. It felt like there was no space in her lungs, as if she was suffocating from the inside out. As he removed the blade, Andy felt the rush of heat, which she knew was her blood slipping from the wound. His sadistic smiling face filled her eyes and she felt his rough hand run over her tear stained face.

“I always finish what I start, Princess.” He whispered gruffly.

Andy stared into the face of death as he leaned back to lift the blade again. She could hear the sirens growing louder in their approach, but she knew that it was too late; the inevitable had come… this was the end. 

Three rapid gunshots caught her by surprise. Hot wet blood splashed across her face and the explosion continued to echo in her ears as the man’s dead weight slumped on top of her.

  **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

As the madness outside the doors of the ambulance raged on, Miranda took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she knew would be an awkward—for both parties—conversation. She pressed the speed dial key on her BlackBerry, the single button that would take her to her loyal and faithful, long suffering assistant in less than three rings. As predicted, her call was answered instantly and strangely she found herself feeling comforted by Emily’s voice. 

“Yes, Miranda?” Emily greeted, lifting her hand to her ear to block out the noise of the boarding calls.

“Where are you?” Miranda snipped, raising her voice a fraction above her usual whisper, over the din of the sirens.

Emily began pacing the floor. “I’m in the departure lounge at La Guardia Airport. We are about to…”

“Yes, yes.” Miranda cut in. “Spare me the details. Emily…” Miranda paused, as she felt the weight of her impending announcement threaten to take control of her usual reserve. “I need you to go and fetch my girls.”

“But…” The word had already left Emily’s mouth before her brain had a chance to stop it. She had been simply minutes away from the first day of the rest of her life. London Fashion week was supposed to be her big break, the one she had been dreaming of for the past three years. In just one phone call, the dream had just been ripped away. It took a moment to overcome the gravitational pull of her deep disappointment, but when she did, she realised that Miranda wasn’t just playing some cruel joke, something was very wrong. She slowed her pacing between rows of empty seats and leaned against the glass that looked out over gate three. She could hear the sirens and the commotion on the line. She could hear the quiver in Miranda’s voice. She closed her eyes and sighed gently. “Of course, Miranda. Whatever you need.”

“For the Second time in as many weeks I feel I owe you an explanation.” Miranda sighed.

“You don’t need to explain anything Miranda. I have their schedule with me. I will leave immediately.”

“Thank you. A security team is on the way to pick you up now. Once you have retrieved the girls, they will take you to a secure location.”

Emily pondered Miranda’s instructions. “Ok… maybe you do need to explain.” She added.

Miranda braced herself for the high possibility of an over dramatic reaction from her assistant. “We were attacked on route to the office…” Miranda heard Emily’s breath hitch in response. “I’m ok.” She added quickly. “And so is Spencer, but Roy has not been so fortunate they are still trying to cut him from the wreckage. More importantly, the Security team have just informed me that there has been a 911 call made from the town house. I don’t have much more information at the moment.”

“Holy shit.” Emily cursed, forgetting to use her inside voice and feeling a sea of eyes upon her. Emily scowled in return and they quickly looked away.

“Yes, quite.” Miranda responded. “Emily, I need you to know, that I trust you beyond anyone else under my employ. You have proved yourself and your loyalty time and time again. Nigel can handle London. Your time is now, please go and get my babies and keep them safe.”

Emily felt an equal measure of pride and dread as Miranda ended the call.

This was the first day of the rest of her life, just not the life she had been expecting.

* 

Miranda stared at her BlackBerry, begging it to give her the answers she desperately needed. There had been no answer when she had tried calling the townhouse. She felt helpless. She closed her eyes to think of her next move but all she could see was Andrea, the hurt and disappointment written all over her face after they had fought that previous night. The last words they had said to one another had been in anger. Miranda looked out into chaos on the street, searching for some sign of hope. Then she saw what she was looking for, the answers to all her questions was walking towards her.

 **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
** The squad cars screeched to a halt outside of the Priestly townhouse. The Captain and his three uniformed officers spilled from their respective vehicles, just as the distinctive sound of gunfire exploded from within the house.

Moore charged up the front steps, throwing his weight at the door in a hopeless attempt to gain access. He scanned the front of the building and considered his options. As his eyes processed the scene, he spotted a small window into the basement. The glass had been smashed, it was just big enough to fit a man and he surmised that this was the likely entry point. However, he knew that it was not a viable entry point for them to follow, not without knowing anything about the intruder; he was not willing to risk the safety of his officers. There was a time when he would have climbed through himself, but he was not the young slender man he used to be, one too many rescheduled trips to the gym and a fondness for pastry meant that his chances of squeezing through the window were slim to none.

He indicated for a uniformed officer to bring the battering ram from the trunk of the squad car whilst another officer headed down the side alley with clear instructions to secure the rear. “Charlie-Victor-two-four-six, Priestly Residence, shots fired. I repeat shots fired. Four officers on the scene, requesting back up and Ambulance immediately.”

Officer Tony Johnson stood poised at the top of the steps with the heavy metal cylinder at the ready. After receiving the signal from his superior officer, he made three effective strikes to the door, allowing the piston to make light work of the first lock. “Give me a hand with this top one, Jimmy.” Johnson called out and his partner moved in without question. The two men lifted the ram up and down successively in several smooth motions to strike the top and bottom security locks, making light work of breaking through the heavy oak door.

Taking a deep breath Moore ascended the steps and as lead officer made his way into the eerily quiet townhouse. After clearing the foyer, Moore motioned the first officer to move up the stairs.  A jerk of the head to the second officer had him following to clear the rest of the ground floor.

The kitchen door did not open at first and looking down Moore saw the bloody smears on the wooden floor and door. He motioned the uniform to look at the evidence and be ready. Weapons drawn the two men pushed into the kitchen. Moore quickly swept the room clearing each corner and checking the windows and doors for damage. Turning to check with his rookie officer, Moore was disappointed to see the man frozen like a deer in headlights. Fighting a growl and the urge to slap the man, he rounded the kitchen island to see what had flummoxed the junior officer. Dropping to a knee, he took the pulse of the woman lying before him. He knew that his action was futile. He was simply following procedure; at first glance, there was no doubt in his mind that she was dead. The bile in his stomach began to feel heavier; something told him that this discovery was just the tip of the iceberg and it was moments like this that he realized just how much he lived on hope. Shaking his head at the lack of pulse, he swiftly rose to his feet.

Signalling for the rookie to follow him Moore moved through the kitchen and gingerly pushed open the adjacent door, this time it was his turn to freeze. “On my ten-twenty.” Moore shouted, snapping out of his initial shock and calling for assistance from his uniformed team.

He rushed forward with his weapon drawn. Taking in the bloody scene, he took a mental snapshot of the three bodies; his mind immediately began to process the crime scene. Caucasian male, mid-twenties, unconscious, lying on the floor with 9mm pistol in right hand. Second Caucasian male, mid to late-thirties, lying face down on the floor on top of a third body, witness Andrea Sachs.

Moore moved forward again and kicked the pistol from the first man’s hand. He took a knee and reached to take the man’s pulse. He was suited and wearing a standard issue vest, from the pooled blood around his body it was clear that he was seriously injured. The good news was he was still breathing. Officer Johnson knelt at the side of the second man and saw the hunting knife in his closed hand. He kept his gun trained on the man and kicked the weapon from his hand. With the same degree of caution, he then bent down to take his pulse. He looked over at the Captain and shook his head. “He’s dead sir.”

The two other officers entered the room. “Rear is secure and the house is clear, Captain.” Officer Jimmy Semple advised and awaited his instructions.

“Good, get over here. I think this guy is from the security team.” Moore stepped aside and let Semple attend to the man, while he moved to the next gruesome scene. “Where the hell are those Ambulances? Petterson, get the trauma kit out of the trunk and get on the damn radio.” He instructed the third officer.

The stained carpet around the two bodies was almost black, Moore and Johnson moved quickly to lift the body of the second man off their witness. With the dead weight now off her body, Moore could see that Andrea was still breathing. He knelt at her side and began assessing her injuries, as she moaned and began to regain a loose form of consciousness. “Where are you hurt, Andrea?” He asked, fearful of the amount of blood covering the floor and her white shirt, hopeful that it was not all hers. Before she could strain an answer, he saw the tear in her shirt from the blade. On further inspection, he found the gurgling wound in her side. Petterson re-entered room with the rudimentary first aid kit, leaving Moore to search haphazardly in the bag until he found what he was looking for. “Get over here and help me.” He commanded, instructing Petterson to open up the young woman’s shirt and to gently lift her on to her side so that he could access the wound. She groaned loudly in pain as the officer moved her body. Moore could hear the ambulance and police sirens approaching rapidly, but there was no time to wait. He tore open a bandage packet and placed the inside of the sterile plastic packet against the wound to form a seal. “Pass me the gauze.” He instructed securing his work as she continued to move in and out of consciousness. 

“Semple, how is your guy doing?” Moore enquired.

“He’s got two bullet wounds one penetrating the shoulder and another in the side, which was stopped by the vest, but he’s having some trouble breathing Captain.”

“Try and make him comfortable until the EMTs get here. What have you found on our John Doe, Johnson?” Moore asked, continuing to work the crime scene as he held pressure on Andrea’s wound. 

Processing the evidence, the Officers had already bagged the hunting knife and several other weapons from the man’s clothes. Johnson held up a square leather wallet for his superior to see. “This ain’t no John Doe, Captain. He’s carrying a freaking badge.”   
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**  
During her time with the District Attorney’s office, Sharpe had seen her fair share of trials and tribulations. It was a boys club and even though this was supposed to be the twenty first century, women in her line of work were still seen as a novelty. Having to fight and prove herself over and over in the worst situations had hardened her for the worst of the worst. That just about summarized the category of what she was entering now.

The visage of Miranda Priestly, pale with pain and shock was worrisome enough, but the steely resolve in her eyes indicated to Sharpe that the dragon was just getting ready to roar. Taking a deep breath, she continued her approach remembering her mother’s wise words about being wary of tigers that are caught by their tails.

“Where is Andrea?” Miranda asked without a greeting, her quiet voice barely audible over the din of the busy scene around them.

“Moore’s team has gone to get her.” Sharpe advised. That was the truth Sharpe reasoned and it spared all of the very messy details. However, from the look on Miranda’s face, Sharpe could see she wasn’t buying it.

Miranda narrowed her eyes at the D.A knowing that there was definitely more to the story. She was about to release her acid tongue when the chatter from the Detective’s radio caught their attention. The voice was familiar and the words were hurried and erratic. Nevertheless, Miranda heard it; there were six words that came through crystal clear. “Priestly residence, two D.O.A and two critical.” The fear soaked adrenalin masked her pain as she moved quickly off the stretcher and out of the ambulance.

“Miranda, where are you going?” Sharpe called after her and moved forward hurriedly to grip her arm.

Miranda looked at Sharpe as if she had asked the most stupid question on the planet. “Home!” Miranda answered in disbelief.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are in not in any fit state. Besides…” Sharpe sighed and shook her head. “…you wouldn’t even get close to the scene.”

“Then you will take me.” Miranda stated.

“Miranda please, you need to go to the hospital.” Sharpe could see the desperate look in the woman’s eyes. Less than a week ago, she had looked into those same eyes and listened as she had poured her heart out about love and second chances. Now the same woman was faced with the possibility of losing it all…again. “Let me make a call. Wait here. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Resigned to the fact that this was her only real option, Miranda nodded and watched with begrudging patience as Sharpe moved out of earshot to make her phone call.  

The line rang several times before it was answered. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Moore was currently in the middle of an almighty shit-storm and his tone made no attempt to hide it. “Bobby, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Bea.” He clipped.

She knew that he was far from it but now was not the time to challenge his stiff upper lip. “I’m with Miranda downtown. We just heard the ten-thirteen on the radio. I’m trying to run interference but I’ll only be able to hold her off for so long. What can you tell me?” Sharpe listened with baited breath as Moore ran through the details at the scene. “You did everything you could, Bobby.” She reassured.

“It wasn’t enough though was it?” He said distractedly.

The night was always at its darkest just before dawn and she knew he needed time to process, hell they both did. Sharpe looked over to Miranda and saw that she was watching her. “I’ll see you at Mount Sinai.” She finalized before hanging up the call.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The blue and red lights flashed and the siren wailed on the unmarked police car as the four passengers sped their way to the hospital. Even in his fragile state Spencer had refused to leave Miranda’s side. He sat up front, with Detective Monaghan behind the wheel, allowing Sharpe to update Miranda, as promised in the rear of the vehicle. 

 District Attorney Sharpe just didn’t feel comfortable as she faced the dishevelled and unkempt state of Miranda Priestly. She knew that any attempt to mollycoddle Miranda would be shot down in flames. Nevertheless, the sight of her fragile and battered frame was somewhat disconcerting and she had to stifle the urge to wrap her arms around her and tell her everything was going to be fine.  

 “So?” Miranda asked impatiently.

 There was an attack on your home.” Sharpe explained. “The intruder was shot and killed. Both Andrea and a member of the security team have been severely injured and another woman…”   

“Juliana.” Miranda said quietly looking down at her lap.

“Yes. I’m sorry but she did not make it.” Sharpe waited for a reaction from Miranda but she continued to stare into her lap, clearly fighting her emotions. “This was the work of a professional.” She continued. “He knew exactly what he was doing. First impressions tell us that they never stood a chance.”

Miranda continued to stare into her lap for a moment longer before looking up and addressing Spencer. “How did this happen?” She asked coldly, narrowing her gaze on him. “Your team were supposed to be protecting us.”

“I’m sorry Miranda. I don’t know what else to say but sorry…” The silence after his words was as cold as her glare.

“What do you mean by severe?” Miranda enquired, turning her eyes back to Sharpe.

 “Andy has been stabbed.” She answered.

 Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “She is still so fragile. How bad is it?”

 “All I know is that she was conscious when they moved her to the ambulance.” Miranda seemed to heave a sigh of relief at her words. “She fought with everything she had. She didn’t give up.”

 “Who shot him?” Miranda asked, fearful of the answer. She knew that Andrea’s soul was already fighting the ghosts of her recent ordeal, her dreams were haunted and she didn’t need another notch to be scratched into her conscience.  

“Jake.” Spencer answered coldly from the front of the car. “He killed him.” There was no victory in death, but he felt proud of the young man in his charge, who had fought with his life to protect his client. He knew it wouldn’t be today, but someday Miranda would appreciate this too. 

The car screeched to a halt in the ambulance bay and Detective Monaghan sped round to the passenger doors to release the District Attorney and Miranda.

Despite her injures Miranda set the pace, the staccato sound of her heels clacking in double time reverberated in the lobby and on the marble floor as she raced forward. Sharpe and Spencer were at her side as she reached the front desk and breathlessly gave Andrea’s name to the nurse behind the glass. There was a sudden sense of Déjà vu as the nurse, checked her computer screen and then asked if she was a member of family. Miranda’s nostrils flared in anger as she prepared to unleash the fires of hell on the young woman in the peach scrubs.

Sharpe flashed her D.A badge at the woman behind the desk and advised her that they were there to meet Captain Moore. The young nurse nodded and opened the security doors just as Moore appeared with a uniformed officer.

“This way, Bea.” He signalled with his head and the group followed him.

The corridors were busy with white coats and scrubs moving from room to room. It was noisy and chaotic, with multiple trauma cases being worked on that morning. Moore brought them to a stop outside a closed room, where another uniformed officer waited. The man stood in front of the door partially blocking the glass view into the room. Miranda observed the scene, taking in every inch of detail as Moore spoke.

“The security guy is down the hall. He has been shot twice. He has a flesh wound to the shoulder and severe internal bleeding. Andrea is in this room.” He pointed to the door behind the uniformed officer. Hearing the words Miranda moved forward to push the uniformed officer out of the way. “You can’t go in there.” Moore stated grabbing her shoulder. 

“The hell I can’t.” Miranda barked. Sharpe took her other arm and both of them held her in place as she fought to enter the room. Through the glass window in the door, Miranda could see the medical team at work as they hurried around the lifeless body on the bed. She could hear the noises and frantic shouts from the team as they communicated with each other.

“I just need to see her.” Miranda pleaded, but the grip stayed tight.

“Let them work, Miranda.” Sharpe begged. “Let them do what they do best.”

Moore and Sharpe watched as Miranda’s concrete walls began to crumble in their arms and the meltdown of the formidable ice queen began.

Released from her restraints Miranda backed away from the door and leaned against the corridor wall, fearing that her legs would buckle from under her. She buried her head in her hands, afraid that if she cried the first tear, the tears would not stop. The dark thoughts filled her mind and threatened to break her.

_‘You’re going to lose everything. You’re going to lose everything.’_

*

Moore looked at Sharpe in complete bewilderment.

She shrugged her shoulders in a silent response and then indicated for him to follow her. They moved along the corridor, away from prying and sensitive ears to conspire.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Sharpe fretted. “Do we have enough?”

Moore reached into his jacket and took out his cell phone. “Here.” He instructed as he handed her the device with a picture on the screen.

Sharpe studied the image of the NY police badge, wrapped in an evidence bag on the screen of the phone. Moore watched with a small sense of satisfaction it’s relevance slowly dawned on her.

“Did this come from the Priestly house?” Sharpe whispered.  

“Jorge Corelli was I.D’d on scene. It looks like he went into the finish the job.” He gripped her by the shoulders so that they were facing each other. “She gave us, Curran and now she has given us the final piece of the puzzle. We got the bastards now!” He declared, clenching his jaw.

Sharpe down at the ground and heaved a sigh. She was angry and relieved at the same time. She blamed herself for the fact that they hadn’t been able to hold the officers after their original questioning. It had taken them so long to gather the evidence, to put together all the pieces and as such, she was as much to blame for this as the murders themselves.

“Hey, what’s this?”  Moore asked with concern. “She didn’t let them beat her.” He added, trying to console his long-term colleague. “She fought with everything she had she beat the murdering son of a bitch!”  

Sharpe looked up from the ground and over towards a broken Miranda.

Moore saw the tears brimming in her eyes and felt his heart sink in empathy.

“All this bloodshed, and for what?” She said, breathing the pained words.

She had seen some horrors over the years, things that could destroy a soul. But, it was rare that she would let herself become so emotionally invested in a case. But this had been different from the start, it had made her question her ethics, her loyalties and most importantly, it had made her realize that she didn’t want to be alone anymore. Miranda had opened her eyes. She knew that she needed to take a break from it. After all was said and done, she needed some time to put her life back in order and to regain perspective.

After a few moments of silence, lost in her thoughts, she lifted her arms to break free of Moore’s grasp and wiped her eyes. “You get going, I’ll stay with her.” She assured.

Moore cleared his throat and stepped out of her space. “Ok. Despatch have sent out two cars to pick up Riley and Baum, I’m going to go back through their statements. I’m also going to finish questioning Curran, believe me when I say that I will make him talk.” Moore waved his fist to affirm his words. “You gonna be ok?” He asked, softening his tone.

“Sure.” Sharpe assured. “I’m fine. Now go.” She patted his arm and smiled.

Moore felt his heart sink again as he saw the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was hurting. They all were. He needed to step up and put this nightmare to bed.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andy couldn’t be sure whether she was awake or still trapped in her nightmare. This wasn’t the same as the nightmares she had been having for the last fortnight. Those always ended as the black figure took her life. She had never made it past there; she had never made it to the hospital. ‘ _Was this real?’_ She questioned. 

She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight before opening them again. There were people rushing around her, the noise was loud and it hurt her ears, the pain was almost unbearable… yes the pain, she had never felt pain in her dreams.

“Andrea?” A voice called her name but she couldn’t focus on the source. “Andrea?” The voice called again. “Can you hear me?” Andy saw an unfamiliar face above her. “Hello Andrea, do you know where you are?” The man asked as he lifted Andy’s oxygen mask slightly.

“In the hospital?”  Andy whispered breathlessly. She blinked again and he came into focus. She looked into his grey-blue eyes.

“Yes, that’s right. You were stabbed. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding for the moment but we are going to need to take you to surgery. Ok, Andrea?”

“Andy.” She wheezed. “My name is Andy.” The man nodded. “Where is Miranda?” She managed to mumble before she a flash of seething pain rip through her insides. She cried out for help as the machinery in the room emitted a chorus of high-pitched tones. 

“Pressures dropping, let’s get her to the O.R. now!” The Doctor gave his order and the team moved with him.

The loud clatter as the gurney burst through the doors drew Miranda’s attention.

Andy’s breath hitched as she saw Miranda. Her face and hands were covered in cuts and bruises. Her clothes were torn and dirty and her hair tousled beyond help. 

The medical team did not stop, despite Miranda’s protests for information and so she moved with them, taking Andrea’s hand.

Andrea’s eyebrows knotted in a mixture of pain and worry. “Oh my god, what happened to you?” She whimpered as she removed her mask.

“It’s not important.” Miranda dismissed squeezing Andrea’s hand.

“I’m sorry.” Andrea wheezed fighting for breath. She studied Miranda’s face, seeing the fresh tracks of tears.

“Why are you sorry? You silly girl.” Miranda scolded, beside herself with worry.

 

They paused at the end of the corridor waiting for the elevator to arrive.  Miranda leaned in and swept back the matted hair from Andrea’s face. “Everything is going to be ok.” She assured, trying to convince herself as much as Andrea.

“Miranda, I…” Andy wheezed, pain knotting her face.

“You don’t need to say it.” Miranda shook her head and squeezed Andy’s hand again.

“I love you.” Andy whispered.

Miranda could feel her heart breaking as she heard Andrea’s words. The whole situation was out of her control and she felt completely powerless. She looked deeply into Andrea’s eyes and placed her dirtied palm on her cheek just as the elevator doors pinged open. “I will never forgive you if you leave me again. Do you hear me?”

Andy cried out in pain again as their hands were torn apart. Miranda watched helplessly as the elevator door closed behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Epilogue**

_I was once asked if I believed in fate…_ _Do things happen for a reason? Do the Gods play a part in the hand that we are dealt? If it is meant to be then all roads will lead back to them. I believe that she was my destiny and I was hers._ _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this ending will receive some mixed reactions. I write angsty stories, that's what I do. The way I see it, the world is filled with two types of people: Glass half empty and glass half full. I agonised over giving them the white picket fence and the happy ever after, I really did... but in the end I decided to make this a series and break here. 
> 
> There is more coming soon... Part 2 - You have to lose to know how to win.


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